Unbreakable
by RMTNDEW
Summary: What happened before Rogue met Wolverine in the bar in Laughlin City, how long had he been fighting there? Chloe works in the bar, and when he leaves it breaks her heart. Six years later they meet again and this time she's all grown up.
1. The Cagefighter and the Lady

Disclaimer: The only thing I own from X-Men are comic books and the movies, I am a but a mere fan with perhaps far too much time on my hands. Please don't mind the mistakes, they're mine and I'm pretty darn proud of them. I hope everyone likes the new story, get settled, it's a looong one this time. Please enjoy!

Unbreakable

Easy is not the word in my vocabulary to which I would use to describe my life. However, I don't prefer 'pitiful', 'sad' or 'unfair' either. I think every person remembers the first time one of their parents tells them that life isn't fair; it's as if you were being told an open secret. Everyone knows it, but when something goes wrong, or 'unfair', in our lives, we try to hide it and keep it from everyone else, its part of out human nature we must deal with. But, I digress. I don't prefer the term 'victim' to describe me, but I wouldn't call myself a 'survivor' exactly. No, I'm just a young girl who has happened to stumble into some bad situations over my few years of living. I'm not a normal person, but I'm not a special case. Before I go any further, perhaps I should introduce myself and tell you my story. You may have a better word to describe me, as I've never been able to find one that summed it all up for me; My name is Chloe Wells, I lived in a place called Laughlin City, which is in Canada, though I was originally born in Washington State. I lived with my mother since my father had been sent to prison for thirteen years following charges that I was never quite clear about. That was when I was three, after a divorce my mother was remarried to a man who, although never touched me, would beat my mother. So it came as no surprise when my aunt, who lived in Canada, came to take me from school at the age of six to live with her, because I had been orphaned due to a murder-suicide on the part of my stepfather. I lived with her until I was eight, but the demands of having a child in the house did not become easier over time, instead she found it more strenuous the older I became, and so she gave me over to an adoption agency. However, since my father was still alive and had rights, I had to be put into foster care. It was too long before an older couple came to take me in, they owned a bar in Laughlin City and lived in the upstairs of the building…they still do, actually. It was no great secret that I was only being taken in because they needed extra money, but it was a warm home with my own room and over time they grew accustomed to me, so I didn't mind. By the time I was ten years old I had seen enough cage fighting to pretty much be able to pick out the winners before the fights even started, so I decided to start taking bets. Not to sound conceited, but I was a cute kid. I had long, blonde, curly hair, big brown eyes and with a smile, I could get _anyone_ to bet on _anything_.

It wasn't until I was fifteen years old that I saw one of the men at the bar eyeing the cage fighters, debating on whether or not to try it. He would be a winner; I knew it. I watched him toss back the rest of his beer and head towards the cages just as our resident cage fighter, who had been there for a week, knocked out another man, winning the match. As the fight announcer, Sid, asked if any other man wanted to go up against him, I watch the man from the bar tell him that he would. Sid then announced that his name was Wolverine and that he would be fighting up against Rourke, the man who had been beating the crap out of all of the other men that week. But my money was on the Wolverine. He pulled off his boots, T-shirt and A-Shirt underneath and then entered the cage.

I was supposed to be picking up beer bottles to throw away, but I stopped just to watch the match. I moved around to beside the makeshift bleachers we had. There was a bell and then the match started. Rourke threw a punch to his stomach, then one to the side of his face, and another to his left eye. All the Wolverine did was crack his neck, and then threw one swift punch to Rourke's jaw, sending him to the floor of the ring for a count out. Everyone watched to see if he would get up, but I knew he was out for the count; there was no way he was getting up after the blow he had received, and when the time was up, I was right. He had to be dragged from the ring by two of the other men there. The crowd cheered the new fighter, the Wolverine, and I know it was going to be hard to keep bets from going to him instead of his opponents.

Later that night, as we were closing up, Wolverine came up to the bar and sat back down.

"Chloe, get him whatever he wants, on the house," Tom, the owner and one of my foster parents, said.

"Yeah," I said, dropping the rag that I was using to clean the counters with and walking up to him. Once I saw him in better light, I realized that the reason he was called Wolverine was that he looked like one. From the way the hair on his head rose and dipped back in the middle, to the hair on his face, which connected with his sideburns. He looked like an animal and fought like one, too. He had one all of the other matches that night. "What can I get you?" I asked him, rather nervous about talking to him.

"Just a beer," he said, puffing on a cigar.

I pulled out a beer and sat it in front of him. "Here you go, it's on the house," I said with a weak smile.

"Thanks," he said, taking a sip, and then giving me a sideways glance he asked; "Are you old enough to be working here?"

"I live here, so I don't know what the rules for that is,"

"Does the fightin' not bother you?" he asked, chewing on the end of his cigar.

"Why would it?"

"I just didn't think most girls would want to see stuff like that,"

"Well, it doesn't bother me as long as it's good fighting; I've seen some guys get their arms broken, and that I can't watch. Anything involving bones being broken, I have to turn my head,"

"No problem tonight, then?" he asked, taking another long sip of his beer.

"No, you didn't give them enough time to break their bones," I said with a small laugh.

"Chloe, did you finish wiping down the bar?" Tom yelled at me.

"Not yet," I yelled back.

"Well get to it, we close soon and you've got to go with Viv to pick up our orders tomorrow,"

"Yeah, in just a second,"

"I said get to it now," he said from the back room.

I let out a loud sigh. "If you need anything else just yell at me," I said with another week smile, went back to where I had left my rag, and began to clean the counters once again. By the time I made my way down the bar, he had gone and left me with a ten-dollar tip underneath his bottle. I quietly tucked it into my pocket, threw away his empty beer bottle and finished cleaning the rest of the bar. Once I was done, it was past three in the morning and I went upstairs to my bedroom. I fell into my bed, not minding to change my clothes, and quickly fell asleep.

My foster mother, Viv, awakened me two hours later. We needed to go to a town that was around three hours away. We had to pick up an order of whiskey that had been miss-shipped to a grocery store instead of the bar.

It only took my around ten minutes to get ready. I switched my T-shirt for a clean one, pulled on a sweater over it and slipped on my pair of old black high top Converse shoes that were just slight of falling apart. I brushed my teeth, pulled up my curly blonde hair into a ponytail and slicked on some chapstick before heading into the small kitchen/dining room area. I grabbed one of those weird, store bought, plastic wrapped muffins and a cup of coffee before heading out to the car, where Viv was waiting for me.

The ride was relatively quiet, neither of us ever talked too much to each other. She mostly talked about replacing the rafters inside the house, putting up new wire in the fighting cage, getting new doors for the bathroom stalls and other things that were mumbled more to herself rather than directed at me.

Once we arrived at the store, Brite's Grocery, Viv went to straighten out our order. I waited in the car, but after ten minutes, I got out and decided to walk over to the church across the street. It was a large Catholic one, with huge stained glass windows running from top to bottom. I lightly pulled on one of the doors, making sure that it was open, which it was, before going in. I walked in, not quite sure what I was supposed to do. My mother had been Baptist and I had gone to church with her every Sunday while she was still alive. I hadn't stepped foot inside of a church since her funeral, but for some reason I was drawn to it. I didn't know what to expect, but when in and saw an empty church. I sat down on one of the pews near the front, staring at a picture of Mary holding the baby Jesus, which stood in front of a box that held around twenty candles, most of which were melted and nearly at the end of their wicks.

"Do you need any help?" I heard a voice from behind me ask.

I turned my head around to see a Priest standing in a doorway of another room.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just saw the church from across the street and wanted to come in, I can leave," I said, standing.

"No, you don't have to leave, feel free to stay as long as you feel necessary, but is there anything that I can do for you while you're here?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm not really Catholic,"

"Well, you don't have to be Catholic to get some help," he said, walking towards me.

"Do I need to confess or something?"

He gave me a kind smile as he stopped in front of me. "No, you don't have to confess unless you want to, you could light a candle for someone or pray, whatever you feel you should do,"

"Can I light a candle for someone who's not alive?"

"If that's what you want?"

I nodded my head. "I would like to do that,"

He allowed me to light one of the many red candles that I had been staring at only moments before and I felt compelled to give a Hail Mary, and hoped that I did it right.

Just as I was done, I heard someone else enter the church.

"Chloe, we have to go, what are you doing in here?" Viv called to me from the vestibule.

"I'm lighting a candle," I answered simply.

"Well are you done, we've got to go, it's going to be nearly one before we get back,"

"Yeah, I'm just about done; I'll be out to the car in a little bit,"

"Hurry," she said, walking off.

"Well, I have to go, thank you for letting me light one of your candles,"

"It was no problem. If you ever need anything, I'm father McCarol, feel free to come by anytime you're around," he said, shaking my hand.

"Thank you," I said with a smile, then leaving.

The summer weather was heating up, so I took off my sweater and tied it around my waist as I walked back across the street.

"What were you doing in there?" Viv asked as I got into the care.

"I was lighting a candle, I told you,"

"For you, you don't know anyone?"

"For my mother," I said as we began to drive.

"Your mother's dead," she said to me, and the words stung me like salt in an open wound.

"I know, but he said it didn't matter,"

"Since when are you religious?"

"I went to church with my mother; I've always been religious,"

"Well, you have to remember where you work and live, don't let that get in your way,"

"It's not going to," I said, staring out my window.

I'm sure that anyone who didn't know Tom and Viv personally would probably think that they were just a couple of greedy, old, mean people, and to some extent, they were. However, they had their good points; they took care of me. They may have yelled and snapped at me a few times, but they would never lay a hand on me, nor did they ever get mad if I yelled back at them. They had had a daughter who was killed when she was just a teenager by a mutant. I never knew all of the details, I didn't want to know them, because I had heard that those who had know what had been done to her couldn't sleep for weeks afterward, and I was sure that my imagination did worse things to her without knowing, but I didn't want to know for sure. I understood that they were still pained by their loss, because I still hurt over my own. We were three grieving people all living in the same house, fighting to not let anyone see how much we were all dying inside.

As one-dimensional characters, Viv and Tom would come out as villains, but because I knew them and knew there was so much more to them, I was willing to overlook their faults, as I'm sure they had down for me those seven years. I wasn't exactly a picnic myself; I came with some pretty heavy luggage, as I told you before. An eight-year-old girl who stood by as her father was sent to prison, her mother was murdered and her aunt had given her away because it was hurting her 'social life', no one could go through that and come out unscathed, and so we all living with one another, just trying to survive.

* * *

"Chloe, get him a whiskey!" Tom yelled at me. 

A week had passed and I knew whom he was referring to by 'him', Wolverine. He was fighting and after most of his matches, he would ask for a whiskey. So, I filled up a shot glass full and pushed my way through the crowd until I got to his side of the cage. I slipped the glass through the gaps in the wire and watched as he tossed it down, not flinching a bit as the bitter drink ran down his throat. He handed the glass back to me and wiped his mouth of with the backside of his hand before sticking in his cigar, taking a puff and blowing smoke rings in my face.

"Is there no one else that's man enough to fight this animal?" Sid heckled the crowd from the middle of the ring.

"Bring me another one after the next match," Wolverine told me after a man from Ontario named Marlon stepped up to fight.

I fought my way back to the bar to fix him another drink, and by the time I got back to the cage, Wolverine was giving his final blow to Marlon and knocking him out.

"Here," I said, shoving the glass back into his hand as he walked back to his corner.

Once again, he grabbed it and tossed the drink back, swallowing it all in one gulp. "Thanks," he said, handing me the glass and propping himself up in his corner.

My bets had taken a huge dip since he had arrived, just as I had suspected, and I was slightly miffed about it. Even though he usually left me five or ten dollars underneath his empty beer bottles, it wasn't what I had been racking up with my betting. I had to think of another way to start making money again, I had to come up with a way to use him to my advantage, because I had a feeling that he was going to be around for a while, and my instincts were usually right.

* * *

"Chloe, get him what he wants," Tom yelled at me.

I looked over at the bar from where I was cleaning glasses later that night, and saw Wolverine sitting there, puffing on, what looked like, the same cigar that he had been smoking all day.

I finished drying out the glass that I was holding and went over to him. "What can I get you?" I asked. I was no longer nervous to talk to him; it had been replaced by annoyance instead. Tom and Viv were making more money; people were coming from all over to see the 'Animal-Man' beat the crap out of some guy and even to have the crap kicked out of them, as well. However, I hardly saw any of that money, and it was his fault.

"A beer," he said.

"_Why did I even ask?"_ I wondered. _"He always gets the same thing,"_

"Here," I said, setting down his beer a little harder than I had intended, sloshing some of it out onto the bar and his shirt and jacket. "Sorry," I apologized. I found a clean rag and gave it to him to clean himself up.

"Don't worry about it," he said, drying off his clothes.

"I didn't mean to slam it down that hard," I lied.

He handed me the rag back and gave me a coy smirk. "You could have fooled me; I was expecting you to throw it in my face,"

I took the rag and wiped up the beer that had splashed out onto the counter. Slightly blushing I asked; "Why were you expecting that?"

"For someone reason you've been pissed at me since I started comin' here,"

"You've screwed up all of my betting, no one wants to bet on the guy you're fighting when everyone knows that you're going to win,"

"Aren't you too young to be runnin' bets?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"I work in a _bar_; I don't think it matters if I find out a way to get some extra money on the side,"

"Fair enough," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Chloe, did you finish cleaning those glasses?" Tom yelled at me.

"No, I'm waiting on a customer," I yelled back. "Why don't _you_ finish doing them?"

"Because I told you to,"

"Will you get in trouble if you don't listen to him?" Wolverine asked.

"No, he'll just get mad at me for taking too long," He nodded his head. "If you need anything, just tell me," I told him, but like every night before, he was gone by the time I had finished cleaning the glasses and was wiping the bar down. When I got to his empty bottle to throw away, there was twenty dollars underneath it. I smiled as I stuck it into my pocked, feeling like he had finally given me a tip worthy of what I had been doing.

I got to bed before three that morning and found myself having dreams about Wolverine, his cocky smirk and his animal magnetism while fighting but complete change while talking to me. I couldn't rip his fighting form from my dreams and when I woke up the next morning, I was extremely upset with myself for letting him take over my sleep, which seemed to be the only time that I _wasn't_ waiting on him.

* * *

"Chloe, go find Wolverine, he's late," Tom yelled at me from the bar where I was at, picking up beer bottles behind our bleachers. 

"How am I supposed to find him?" I asked.

"He's been sleeping in his truck out in the parking lot,"

I let out a frustrated sigh; the last thing I wanted was to be delivering wake up calls to _him_.

I sat the five bottles that were in my hands down on the bar and pushed my way through the already growing crowd until I was to the front doors. I was hot, aggravated that I had to be out there waking that stupid man up, and extremely frustrated because I didn't know what kind of truck he drove, and at eight o'clock the parking lot was full of Canadian rednecks and their pick-up trucks. I didn't know what to do, so I started knocking on all of the truck doors that had campers on them. After fifteen minutes I had gone through half of the vehicles and interrupted three different sets of people who were doing anything_ but_ sleeping. As the sun was starting to set behind the trees, I spotted a brown truck with a camper attached to it parked near the end of the parking lot. I walked to it, deciding that if it wasn't him, I would go back to the bar and let Tom deal with him on his own. I knocked on the side of the camper and waited for someone to answer. It wasn't long before the camper started shaking and the back door opened. Wolverine, who had on a flannel shirt with only three buttons buttoned, all of which were in the wrong holes, started at me, looking sleepy, slightly hung over and pissed off.

"What do you want?" he growled at me.

"It's after eight o'clock, you're supposed to be in there fighting right now, and everyone's going crazy wondering where you're at,"

He swore and ducked back into his camper, re-emerging to sit down and pull on his boots. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

"I'm not your freakin' alarm clock, if you need someone to wake you up then that's your problem," I said as he stood up. "You look like you were dressed in the dark; don't you know how to button a shirt?"

As he stood there fixing his shirt, I looked past him into his camper. It was small, and from what I could see, messy. There were flannel and A-line shirts hung up on a makeshift clothing line. I suddenly found myself wondering what my life would be like if he were to take me away and I were to live with him. Would he be good to me and take care of me, or would I have to clean up after him and bring him beers while he lazed around on a couch watching TV? We would probably live in a trailer somewhere there in Northern Alberta, and I imagined that he would want a dog, but not a cute little Golden Retriever puppy like the one I had always wanted, but one of those ugly, mixed bred mutts that he would train to attack strangers. He would probably come home, staggering in the door drunk, and wanting me to fix dinner for him at two in the morning. But he wouldn't beat me, he would just argue with me until he passed out. Then he would go to work, if he even had a real job, and then it would start all over again. My life would fall into a routine of washing his clothes and cleaning up after him, and I hated him even more for pushing me into my imaginary rut.

We walked through the parking lot together and just before we got through the door, he turned to me and said, "Bring me a whiskey after every match,"

"How about every other match?" I argued. "I _do_ have a job other than waiting on you,"

"Fine," he said, opening the door and walking into the crowded bar, to the cheers and boos of the customers.

I decided to stay outside for a moment, just to clear my head. I had been thinking of my father more than usual in those past few days; he only had a few more months left before he would be getting out of prison and my life would, once again, take a big change. There would be lawyers and social service agents investigating my case, deciding which family I would be better living with. I didn't remember my father much and so I didn't know what I would say if I were asked where I wanted to live. I wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him before I had to choose between him or Tom and Viv. I let out a loud sigh, I didn't have time to think about it; I had to get back to work.

As soon as I got back to the bar, Tom was telling me that Wolverine already needed a shot.

"I'd like to shoot him," I mumbled.

I fixed him one and rushed to bring it to him, but as I was walking to the cage, a drunken guy bumped into me, throwing the drink up into my face. I dropped the glass and it broke, sending the shards of glass scattering on the floor.

"Watch it, kid," the drunk man said, pushing me.

I fell backwards, lost my balance and fell down. My hand landed on the small pile of glass and cut my palm.

"Jerk," I yelled at him, trying to pull the bits of glass from my hand.

"Little girls shouldn't be in bars, they might get in trouble," another man said to me.

I pulled myself up from the ground and heading back towards the bar; I needed to clean off my hand and bandage it up. I went back into the room behind the bar, stuck my hand in the sink and ran cold water over my cut. It stung from getting some of the whiskey in it and I cringed as I pulled a small piece of glass that was still stuck in it, from the open wound in my right palm. I cleaned it with an alcohol wipe and covered it with a large bandage before going back out to the bar. I was sure that both Tom and Wolverine would be livid with me, but I didn't care. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet and I was already tired with the day. As soon as I came out, I went to work filling up another shot glass to bring over to the fighting cage. When I got to his corner, I saw that he was still fighting, so I waited. However, it was lasting a lot longer than they usually did and when I saw the man that he was up against, I realized that it was the same guy that had pushed me. Wolverine was taking his time with him, beating him mercilessly without knocking him out. I watched, wondering why he was doing it, why he wasn't just throwing him to the may and being down with him like he did with everyone else. Certainly he wasn't doing it because of me.

I stood by his corner and waited as he pulled the mans arm behind his back, saying something in his ear, then pulling back harder and with a loud 'snap!' popping his shoulder out of joint. Most of the bar-goers cheered, but I turned my head, not able to watch. It wasn't too much longer before I heard him hit the ground and Sid announced Wolverine the winner yet again.

"Hey," I heard him call to me from his corner.

I turned around to look at him and handed him the glass through the wire. "Here," I said.

"Forget about them after this," he said, before tipping it back and drinking it down.

"Are you sure?" I asked as he gave me the glass back.

I looked up at him and his eyes suddenly captivated me. I had never seen anything like them before. They were slightly intimidating, but felt safe. I didn't know why I had never noticed them before.

"Yeah," he said, taking a puff of his cigar and jolting me from my staring.

"Alright then," I said, going back to the bar.

For the rest of the night Tom went easy on me, he let me just wait on people at the bar. Once the fights were over, Wolverine got dressed and came up to the bar and say down, just like he did every night. I grabbed a beer and sat it in front of him, not bothering to ask what he wanted.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem,"

"How's your hand?" he asked.

"It's alright; it was just a small cut,"

He nodded his head and took a sip of his beer. "I'm sorry about earlier,"

"For what?"

"When I yelled at you outside,"

"Oh, no, its fine, I've had people yell at me before, I think I'll live," I said, not able to help myself from smiling at me.

"I'm Logan," he said, reaching out his hand.

"I'm Chloe," I said, taking it in my bandaged own, shaking it.

"I know,"

"You've heard it yelled a few times, huh?"

"Just a few," he said, taking another sip.

"Did that guy ever get his shoulder back into joint?" I asked.

"I don't know, but I didn't think you could watch stuff like that?"

"I can't, but I didn't have much of a warning, you sort of just had him in a hold and then snapped it,"

"He deserved more that that, but he wouldn't stay up,"

"Why do you think he deserved more than that, you beat him half to death," I said, expecting him to tell me that he deserved to be beaten more because he had pushed me, making me cut my hand, but apparently alcohol didn't make him sentimental and mushy, because he just gave me another one of his coy smirks.

"He made you drop my whiskey,"

"Oh well, I can't believe you let him live after _that_," I remarked sarcastically, turning to wipe down the counter. "If you need anything just yell,"

"I would think that you would know by now that I don't ever need anything else,"

"Well, I guess I'll just see you tomorrow then," I said with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess so,"

As with every night before, Wolverine had finished his beer and left by the time I had gotten to his seat. When I lifted his bottle there was another twenty-dollar bill folded underneath it. I quickly tallied up all of the money that he had given me and I was happy when I realized I had enough money to buy a new pair of shoes and some other clothes for school, which started that coming Monday and it was already Friday. Viv was supposed to take me shopping the next day, so I quickly headed to bed, tired from the hectic day. I lay down on my mattress which was slightly lumpy and probably should have been replaced a couple of years before.

My room was small, only big enough to hold me bed and a dresser. Although I did have my own bathroom, which was also small. It _just_ held a shower, toilet and small sink.

As I was falling asleep, my mind wondered back to my thoughts from earlier that day when I was looking into Logan's camper and wondering what my life would be like if I lived with him and realized that my ideas had changed quite a bit in those six hours. I decided that he would get me a nice house with my own room that was really big. He would let me have a Golden Retriever puppy, and would enjoy it too, but he would pretend as if he didn't. He wouldn't make me clean up after him and he would let me spend my summer days however I wanted. Maybe when my father got out of prison he would let me live with Wolverine instead.


	2. Smoke and Mirrors

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for Mr. Boo-Boo Sock Monkey, but he's built upside down and doesn't have ears. He's enjoying the new story and hopes that everyone else is too, and he hopes you like the next chapter!

* * *

The next morning I woke up and took a shower before grabbing some breakfast. After I finished eating, I went to take out the trash. 

"Do you always work?" I heard someone say. I turned around and saw Logan standing outside his truck, puffing on a cigar.

"No, but don't _you_ have a job?"

"Yeah,"

"Doing what, you're here all the time?"

"This _is_ what I do,"

"And what is that, going from bar to bar just fighting people until you lose?" I asked.

"I don't lose kid, I never have,"

"So then why do you leave if you don't lose?"

"No one wants to see someone win all the time,"

"I guess,"

"Chloe, are you done, we have to go now!" Viv yelled at me from their car.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a second!" I called back. "I have to go; I guess I'll see you later tonight,"

"Yeah, alright," he said, pulling the cigar from his mouth and getting into his truck.

Viv and I went shopping that day, but I couldn't keep Logan from my thoughts, with everywhere we went my mind wandered back to him. There was something about him that haunted me, his image stayed with me the whole day and by that night, I was anxious to see him. I wasn't sure if I had a crush on him or if I was just fascinated by him. There was no denying that he was attractive, but I didn't want to be that girl who didn't have a daddy growing up, so she runs into the arms of any man that shows the smallest bit of interest in her. I wanted to be smart about the situation, but I couldn't change the fact that he was in my house every night, and since that was my last long night working for the summer, I wanted to make the most of it.

I was waiting at the bar that night when two men sat down, ordered beers and proceeded to heckle and make fun of Logan.

"Twenty dollars says you can't last three minutes in there with him," I said to one of the men.

"Three minutes, that's it?" he asked.

"You think you could last longer?"

"I say…a good five minutes and I could knock him out, he doesn't look that solid,"

"Oh, so you think_ you_ would win? Here's the deal; you last three minutes and I'll give you twenty dollars, you knock him out and I'll give you fifty,"

"Deal," he said, shaking my hand.

"Leave your money with your friend, if you lose I'm not going to wait until you regain consciousness for you to pay up," I said.

Sure enough, he pulled out his wallet and gave his money to his friend, and then he walked up to the cage and told Sid he wanted to fight. Once the match Wolverine was fighting was over, Sid let him into the ring as the other guy's friends drug him from the cage. I caught a glimpse of his face and he looked as if he was starting to rethink the bet, but then the bell rang and the fight started. Sadly, for him, he didn't even last two minutes and his friend left me my bet money and paid for their bill before dragging his friend out to their truck and leaving.

By the end of the night I had made over two hundred dollars from various idiots who actually thought that they could take out Logan.

"Chloe," Tom started later that night.

"I'm on it," I said, grabbing a beer on my way over to Logan and setting it down in front of him.

"So, how much money did you make?" he asked with a smirk and a small wink.

"How much did _you_ make?"

"Six hundred,"

"Two hundred and twenty-five,"

"Not bad," he said before taking a sip.

"Not bad at all considering I don't have to actually do anything and you have to be the one fighting them,"

"So are you still mad at me for screwing up your bets?"

"A little bit, this isn't quite as much as I had been running, but I guess I can deal with it,"

"So what are you gonna' do with it?" he asked, taking another sip from his tall bottle.

"Do with what?"

"The money,"

"Oh, well, my birthday's coming up soon and I'll be sixteen, so I'll probably get myself a car,"

"With two hundred dollars?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Well, I was hoping to bring in a little bit more by then, it's about a week away. I'll get to work for an hour every night, except on Saturdays, I'll get to work all day then, so hopefully I'll get a few hundred more,"

"Do they know you get that kind of money?"

"Who, Tom and Viv? Yeah, they don't care. I don't mess with their money and they don't mess with mine,"

"Are they your grandparents?" he asked, taking a puff of his cigar.

I let out a small laugh. "No, they're my foster parents. My father is in prison so when my mother was killed I came to live with my aunt here in Alberta, but she didn't like the whole mother deal so she gave me over to foster care, where Viv and Tom came and got me. I've been living with them for a little over seven years,"

"Only two more years, kid," he said with another drink.

"Yeah," I said wistfully. "Do you have any kids?"

"No,"

I resisted the urge to say; 'Would you like one?' thinking it might frighten him a little bit. Instead I asked; "Are you married,"

"No,"

"Do you have _any_ family that knows you're sleeping in the parking lot of a bar every night?"

He looked at me, his expression changing slightly, to either upset or confused. He took another long drink of his beer, ran his tongue over his lips and thought for a moment. "No," he answered again.

"Well, I guess we have something in common then," I said. "We don't have kids, I'm not married and I don't have any family either,"

"I thought you said you had a father and an aunt?"

"My aunt gave me away, so she doesn't know where I am and my father's in prison, I haven't seen him since I was three,"

"How long did he get?"

"Thirteen years, so he'll be getting out some time within the next year,"

"What did he get put away for?"

"I don't know, my mother would always tell me that I was too young to understand and that she would tell me when I got older, but uh…my stepfather killed her and him both when I was six, so she never got to tell me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"It's not your fault,"

"So how does that work, do you live with him once he gets out?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. There will be a big case over whose got the better life for me and where it would be in my best interest to live, and all that crap,"

"Would you want to live with him?"

"I don't know, I don't remember him, but like you said; only two more years and then I can do what I want,"

"It doesn't always make things easier,"

"No, but at least if my life is screwed up then, I'll know that I got to screw it up myself instead of someone else,"

"I guess you could look at it that way," he said with a small smile and I couldn't help but smile back.

I was completely shocked by how he could be such a wonderful fighter, how he could beat those men, and yet be so kind and gentle with me. I didn't know how he did, but more to the point, I didn't know _why_ he did it. Even if he wasn't nice to me, I would still have to wait on him, and with all of the woman that I had seen flock over to him every time that he had been there proved that he _wasn't_ looking to pick up an under age girl in a bar, but perhaps he just wanted someone to talk to. Maybe he needed someone to keep him company while he was there. I didn't know, and I tried not to care; if he wanted to talk, that was fine with me, I didn't mind. Bartenders were supposed to listen to other people's problems, but usually they were quite a bit older than me, and I wasn't really listening to his problems, he was listening to mine.

"So, where are you from?" I asked.

"Here,"

"Northern Alberta?"

"Yeah," he said as he took a small sip from his bottle. "What about you?"

"Washington State,"

"Why are you living here instead of in the states, then?

"My aunt lives up here, or lived up, or something,"

"And your father's down there?"

"Yeah, he's in Seattle,"

"Would you want to move back?"

"I don't know. I hated it when I first moved here, but now I really like it and I think it would be a little sad to leave. But, it's this whole place, not just Canada; this is my home. But I don't know, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it,"

"Hey Chloe, you take the rest of the night off, I'll clean up," Sid's girlfriend Nancy said. Her real name wasn't Nancy, but everyone thought it was funny to call her that, except for me, who was a little too young to remember what they were talking about, but I could never remember her real name, so I just called her Nancy, too.

"No, I'm fine," I said.

I knew what she wanted; Logan. All of the woman did and the only way she knew how to talk to him without Sid catching on was to try to take over my bartending.

"Are you sure, you look a little tired?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, I'm talking right now," I said back forcefully enough so that she wouldn't ask again.

"Oh, who are you talking to?" she asked and with that I felt like slapping her. She could _clearly_ see whom I was talking to, she had seen him as many times as I had, and she was acting like a complete idiot. Scratch that, she wasn't _acting_;she really was an idiot. She was one of those stupid, air-headed, bleached blondes, and her stupidity was making me sick.

I gave him a look of frustration and he just winked at me as he tipped up his bottle, draining it of its last drop, then he pulled out his wallet and threw down the money for his bill.

"Wolverine," I said, answering Nancy.

"Oh, our cage fighter!" she said, as if a light bulb had just been turned on and she could finally see the man who was sitting right in front of me and not even seven feet from where she was standing to my right, doing nothing productive.

"Yeah," I said unenthusiastically.

"I don't have any change, I'll give you a tip tomorrow night," Logan said, standing and tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

"What, don't play out in traffic?" I said sarcastically.

He gave a small laugh and shook his head. "Something like that. See you tomorrow, kid,"

"Alright, bye," I said as he left. Once he was out the door, I grabbed my cleaning rag and handed it to Nancy. "You know what, I _am_ quite tired, thanks for volunteering, I could use some extra sleep,"

"Oh, well," she started.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow, goodnight!" I said, leaving before Nancy could change her mind.

When I got to my room, I put up my money, changed into a pair of sweatpants and an A-line shirt and flipped on the radio before getting in bed. 'Time' by Enya was playing and I let it play as I made up my bed and switched off the lights. I lay in bed listening to the music, nearly falling asleep before the song went off.

Music had been my only means of entertaining myself as there was only one TV in the house, and one in the bar, both of which were usually turned to the news and I _hated_ the news. It wasn't that I just didn't care about what was going on in the world, but it was just so depressing and I had a sad enough life without having to feel bad about someone else's.

Although I was tired, sleep was elusive and I once again found myself thinking about Logan. Why was he so interested in my life, what kind of motive could he have for wanting to know about me? My life had been filled with motives, always wanting something in return for being nice to me, why should I expect it to be any different with him. And with that thought, I fell asleep; once again angry with the strange man for wanting something from me and thinking he could have it so easily. I was determined to fight and show him that I wasn't an easy person to crack, and if he had an ulterior motive for being nice to me, he was going to find out just how tough I was.

* * *

When I woke up the next day, I found that all of the excitement that I had had to see Logan the day before was gone, once again replaced by a feeling short of hate, by loathing. I didn't want to see his smug face again, I didn't want to see him fight anymore, and I didn't want to have to wait on him. I wanted him to just leave, to get out of my house and to not come back ever again. I couldn't tell him that, obviously, or I would have gotten in trouble. It may have been my house, but it was also my job, I couldn't just go around telling our top fighter to leave, we had been doing more money since he had been there than we ever had. I was in a sour mood all day long, and Viv couldn't help but notice. 

"Why are you so upset?" Viv asked me as I was cleaning up after dinner. We only had an hour before the bar opened, so I was hurrying.

"I'm just not feeling too great today,"

"Cheer you, you'll get to see Wolverine in an hour," she said. I shot her a look. "You thought I didn't notice the two of you flirting with each other? I may be getting old, but I'm not blind yet, and I'm certainly not stupid,"

"Well, you might just need to check your eyes again because not only have we not been flirting with each other, but I don't like him…at all,"

"Chloe, I told you, I'm not stupid, you may just think that you don't like him, but you do. Just don't start coming up with any crazy ideas,"

"Like what?" I asked, leaning back up against the sink and staring at her where she was sitting at the small dining table.

"Like running off with him,"

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I was a teenager once, too. If I was offered a chance to run off with an attractive, interesting man, I would have,"

"This is my house, I'm nearly sixteen and I don't have too much longer before my father gets out of jail, I'm not screwing anything else up anymore than it already is by running away. You may not be stupid, but believe it or not, neither am I,"

"Good," she said, standing from the table. "You got this in the mail yesterday from the United States," She shuffled through a small set of mail before handing me a letter. I looked at the return address and saw that it was from Christopher Wells, my father.

"Why didn't you give this to me yesterday?" I asked.

"I forgot," she answered lamely.

"So you're not blind, you're just getting senile," I said, walking to my room.

Once there I shut the door and looked at the letter. I sat down on my bed, nervous about what it might say. I didn't want to open it, and yet I wanted to rip the envelope apart and cling to every word that was written. So, with shaky hands I carefully peeled the seal open. I pulled out the letter and began to read the words that were neatly written on the paper:

"_Dear Miss Chloe Wells,_

_I don't know what to say, I don't even know how to begin, but I guess I could try apologizing. I know that what I did made your life the worst it could ever be, but I didn't mean for it to. There's no way for me to explain to you how much better I was only trying to make your life, because believe me, I would._

_I can understand completely if you hate me, I wouldn't blame you at all, if you did, but I want you to know that I really am sorry and that I want to make it up to you any way that I can. _

_This letter isn't much, considering I haven't written to you in thirteen years, but I was just given your address so that I could write you this letter. I get out of here in three months, after that you'll get to chose where you want to live. I can understand if you don't want to live with me, I'm still a stranger to you, but if you decide to stay with the family that you have now, I still want to be able to see you. You are my daughter, my one pride and joy, and you are the only thing that has kept me going these years._

_I know that I have changed your life is such horrible ways, if I had been with you, nothing would have happened to your mother, and that eats me away inside. I wouldn't blame you for hating me for it; I can't even forgive myself for it. I loved you and I loved you mother with all of my heart, that's why I did what I did and nothing could ever change how I feel about the both of you._

_I'm writing you because I wanted you to know how I feel and how sorry I am for everything that I've done. There's no way for me to describe how remorseful I am in a small letter, but I thought that I at least owed you this much. You don't have to write me back, but you can if you want, I would love to hear from you. I love you so much, Chloe._

_Love you Always,_

_Daddy,"_

Once I was through reading the letter, I folded it back up, placed it into its envelope and put it into my keepsake box that I kept under my bed. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't hate him, I never had. I didn't blame him for how my life was, I just always felt that was what it was, no one's fault. I certainly didn't blame him for my mother's death; my stepfather had been the one that killed her, not him. I didn't know if my emotions were healthy, I had never been angry about my life. I had once heard that a 'normal' behavior was whatever didn't disrupt your life. Though my life probably wasn't in itself normal, my feelings never got in the way, and for some reason, that bothered me.

* * *

I saw him come in and sit down out of the corner of my eye; I hoped that someone else would notice him and I wouldn't have to wait on him. However, Tom and Viv were both talking to some of the older customers. 

"Hey Chloe," Tom yelled at me.

"_Just pretend like you don't hear him,"_ I thought to myself.

"Chloe," he yelled again. I clanked around the glasses that I was drying off, hoping that he would assume that I couldn't hear him over the noise. The bar was already starting to fill up with the sound of drunk men and slutty woman. The TV was turned up and on to the news. "Chloe, are you deaf?"

"No, but if you keep yelling I might be," I said, grabbing a beer as I passed him. "You know, you own this place, it wouldn't kill you to actually do some of the work,"

"Don't act like you're the only one here that does any of the work," he said as I slid past him, plopping the bottle down in front of Logan with a small swish, sending a few drops spilling out onto the counter.

He looked at me a blinked. I had never seen anyone who could blink with a condescending manner, but that's how he was looking at me. "Are you gonna' throw it in my face this time if I tell you that I was a whiskey instead?"

"No," I said, grabbing a glass and pouring whiskey in it. "Here," I sat it down in front of him, trying not to spill it.

"It's not even eight o'clock yet and you're already pissed at me?" he asked.

"What does the time have to do with anything?"

"You're usually not this mad until you close,"

"That's because you haven't been in when we first open, until now,"

"So, you just stay mad at me all the time?"

"Pretty much,"

He nodded his head. "Why?" he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'm the one you're mad at,"

I let out a sigh. Why could he just leave me alone?

"Why do you have any interest in me what so ever?" I asked, my hand on my hip and staring right at him.

He swore and took a sip of his whiskey. "You're the only person in here that ain't drunk, sorry if I wanna' talk to someone who actually knows what they're sayin',"

"That's it, that's the only reason you want to talk to me is because I'm sober?"

He gave me a sideways glace as he took another sip of his drink. I could tell that he was taking him time to think, choosing his words very carefully. "I'm not sure what you're expecting me to say to you, kid. This is a job for both of us; although you seem you hate yours more that I do,"

"You don't have a job, you may get money for throwing other guys around, but that's not work. You always knock them out with three minutes and you come out with no problems, not scrapes, no cuts, not nothing. You get to act like an animal locked inside of a cage, that's not a job,"

"I do the work, I get paid for it, that's a job,"

"Ah yes, beating men senseless is really the career to write home about," I said sarcastically.

"You know, for you to only be fifteen you're really on it, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've got it all figured out, don't you? I'm just some drunk idiot who comes in here wasting your time, taking up space and making too much trouble for you, right?"

"I didn't say that,"

"That's what you meant, though,"

"No, it's not,"

"I may look it, but I'm not stupid, kid,"

"Why does everyone think that I think that they're stupid?" I asked, frustrated.

"Because you treat me like I'm stupid,"

"I don't think…I'm used to people not being nice to me unless they want something from me, so if that's the case I suggest you find someone else to get it from.

He let out an amused laugh. "And what would I want from _you_?" he asked, and for once I was actually forced to consider what he _would_ want. I didn't have anything that he didn't, or couldn't get for himself.

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"Not everyone wants something from you,"

"That is something that has yet to be proven to me," I told him, looking him in the eye.

"Wolverine, fighting time," Sid said, coming behind him and giving him a small smack on the back.

"Alright," Logan said to him as he walked off.

As he drank down the last of his whiskey, I saw a group of three, drunk, barely dressed, middle-aged woman pointing and giggling at him.

"You better go, your fans are waiting," I said.

He looked over his shoulder at the woman and lit up a cigar as he turned his head back. He looked at me and I thought he was going to say something, but he just puffed on his cigar, paid for his order and stood up to leave,

"You gave me too much, here," I said, handing him a five back.

"You gave me a beer and a whiskey, that's what I paid for,"

"No, you didn't order the beer, I gave it to you," I said, wanting him to just take his money and leave.

"Then keep it as a tip,"

"Aren't tips supposed to be for good service?"

"Bring me a whiskey tonight and that's all I want,"

"Just one?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright," I said, taking the money from him, touching his hand as he handed it to me and accidentally shocking him as I did. He jerked his hand away, swearing. "Sorry," I apologized.

He studied me for a moment. "It's fine,"

I gave him a weak smile and nodded my head in acknowledgment as he walked away.

He fought hard that night and I couldn't help but think that it was because I had put him in a more defensive mood than usual. For the most part he would just knocked them out, but that night, for some reason, he was taking his time with them, making sure to keep them up for as long as he could.

It was nearly ten o'clock that night when I started to feel bad about accusing him of something that I had no proof of and that that I would buy him a bottle of whiskey for him to keep with him inside of the ring to show him that I was sorry. So I paid for a bottle and grabbed one from behind the counter as I headed over to the cage.

I waited in his corner as a new fight started and I watched the man fighting him kick him below the belt. Logan let out a loud growl and the crowd cheered. I winced at the thought of the pain he was going through and was glad that I was _not_ a man. The other fighter kicked him in the ribs, punched him in the stomach and kicked him into the cage. He continued to kick him until Logan pulled his foot out from underneath him, knocking him to the ground. Then he pulled him back up by the collar of his shirt, slung him up against the cage, throwing a punch, hitting him right in the gut. I heard the man let out a sick groan and I thought he would throw up right on the mat. After that, Logan swung a solid hit right to the side of his head, right by his eye, sending him to the mat, out cold. Logan cracked his neck and let out another growl, of triumph that time. I watched him strut back to his corner and he caught my eye. I knew he was wondering if I was going to start something with him, that with the excitement of everything that had been going on he had forgotten about our agreement.

"Here, I thought you could use a little bit more than a shot, I guess I was right," I said, handing him the bottle through the hole in the wire.

He took it, twisting the cap off and took a long drink of it. I watched as his Adams apple bobbed as he gulped it down like water. "Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth with his free hand.

I didn't know how he drank it the way that he did; when I was younger, I had stupidly taken a small sip of it and nearly threw up from choking on the harsh, bitter, stinging taste. I never drank it, or any of the other drinks, ever again.

"If you need anything Nancy will get it for you, she's at the bar. I have school in the morning so I have to go up to the house. Just tell Sid and he'll get her for you,"

"Yeah, alright," he said, picking up his cigar stub and puffing on it.

"Good luck tonight," I said with a weak smile.

"Thanks," he said as I began to walk away.

I took a quick look at him before I headed up stairs and caught a glace of his shadowed form still standing in his corner, tilting up his bottle. My emotions had never rushed back and forth between so many different levels of likeness and loathing as they had since he had arrived at the bar. I wasn't sure why had had gotten under my skin the way that he had, but for some reason I had let him. He was a stranger, just another costumer who had blown through town looking for some money, but I had made a big deal about the situation. It was not a new thing to see a fighter come in and stick around for about a month before leaving and moving onto the next town, he was not an unusual case and it wasn't unnatural for me to get close to the fighters, but he seemed different for some reason. I felt an awkward, yet familiar, connection with him that allowed his strong figure to be burned and sealed into my mind, keeping him at the surface of my thoughts at almost every minute that I was awake. There was nothing I could do to stop it or slow it down, so I gave in to it, I allowed myself to be taken with him and resigned my hate for him. If he turned out to be anything like I had originally thought, then oh well. As I fell asleep the phrase _'Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me,'_ ran through my mind, and I was bound for no shame to be placed on me.


	3. Here's To the Night

Disclaimer: Marvel, please don't sue me, I love you. And to M. Night Shyamalan; I so didn't even realize that my title was the same as your movie, I wasn't just excited that it was my first story that wasn't named after a song, so please don't sue me either, I love you as well. On with the story!

* * *

It was my first day back to school and I had already been called into the Principle's office because I 'smelled like alcohol'. I had to take a sobriety and drug test. Yes, I smelled like alcohol, I lived in the upstairs of a barn-converted bar, the whole place smelled of various forms of alcohol.

"Okay Miss Wells, here is your back pack back, you've passed all of the tests so you are free to go," Mr. Hayger, my school's principle, told me, handing me my bag before sitting in his chair behind his desk, directly in front of me.

"I think that I deserve an apology," I said.

"I don't think that we took any unnecessary actions that would merit an apology," he said, aligning his fingers and peering at me from over top of them.

"I was falsely accused of drinking. I think that everyone knows that my foster parents' house is above a bar that they own and operate together, I'm bound to smell like beer every once in a while, I can't help that. However, I've been a good student, a really good one, and you and your staff of teachers treat me as if I'm no good, white trash. So, I suggest that if you don't want anyone knowing about your wife's little rendezvous' with a fighter named Jet Jackson you'll advise them to stop being discriminate towards me because of where I live,"

"That's blackmail," he said.

"Call it what you want, but to be quite honest with you, I don't care. I'm having a rough year so far and I just want to get through this school year without having to worry about why my grades are lower that they should be,"

"You background has nothing to do with your grades,"

"And I'm sure that after this talk it never will again," He didn't reply to me, he just nodded his head, so I started to leave, but before I opened the door I paused to turn around and say to him before I left, "I _am_ a good student, I only want to finally get the grades that I deserve,"

At this moment you opinion of me has probably changed, and for that I truly apologize. I'm not a mean, ruthless, conniving person; it's just that I was raised to get what was needed in any way possible. I had never wanted to 'blackmail' my principle, but I knew that I probably wasn't going to be finishing my school year there, and I just wanted to finally be treated with a sense of respect while I _was_ there.

No, my life had never been fair, but I felt that I deserved to be treated well. My life had been full of compromises, pulling on worn strings to get to where I had to go. It's all I had ever known, my only example in life to follow by, and so I did.

As I left his office, my thoughts floated to Father McCarol, the Priest in Carnive City. I was surprised to have thought about him, considering I hadn't since the day that I had met him, and wondered what he would have thought of my actions and how I should have dealt with the situation. My mind was pulling me in two different directions; How Father McCarol would have handled it, and how Logan would have handled it. Polar opposites of each other, but both believing it would have been the best way. I wondered if there was such a thing as 'right or wrong' or if we were merely taught only to deal with them to believe one is right and the other is wrong. It's like how I had always wondered if we saw colors the same way, or if my orange was someone else's green. Is there really a set of standards to go by, or simply was my right someone else's wrong?

* * *

"How was school?" Viv asked as I walked into the kitchen where she was cooking dinner.

"I hate that stupid place, I don't know why I can't go to a different one," I said, plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs and propping up my chin in my hands.

"We tried to get you switched but they wouldn't let us because of zoning rules," she said.

"I still hate it," I muttered.

"There's not much you don't hate,"

"It doesn't make it any better,"

"Oh, Wolverine left this for you last night," she said, pulling out a napkin from her pocked. She tossed it to me and I caught it with both hands. To my surprise, there was neat handwriting on it that said '_FOR CHLOE_'. I unfolded the napkin and saw a fifty-dollar bill since. "Now, you can't tell me that he isn't fond of you if he left you that as a tip,"

I looked up at her. "I never said that he didn't like me, I said that I didn't like _him_,"

"Well, I wouldn't have a problem with him if he left me tips like that for not doing anything,"

"Yeah, see that's the thing; I actually _do_ do something, it's like I'm his assigned waitress or something. The only person who's offered to wait on him is Nancy, and she's far too stupid to get even the simplest things done properly,"

"She's not _that_ dumb,"

"Yes she is, she's completely incompetent of having a single intellectual thought, let alone a conversation. And she looks like a test animal with all of that crappy makeup on,"

"They say that ignorance is bliss,"

"That's just because they're too stupid to know any better,"

"Your problem is that you're too smart for your own good,"

"That's not true, and even if it was, how would that be a problem?"

"You work in a bar; you don't need to be so smart,"

"I'm not exactly planning on working in a bar for the rest of my life, you know,"

"That what _are_ you planning on doing with your life?"

"I don't know, but it's not going to involve waiting on drunk men," I said.

"Well…good luck to you on that one,"

* * *

The week went pretty well, school was much easier when I didn't have teachers making snide comments about me while I was leaving their classes, and by Friday, I was all too excited to get to my first weekend away from school.

I was working the bar that night, which seemed to be very empty after Tom had hired a few guys to hang some makeshift walls to separate the bar from the fighting area. Since Logan had arrived there had been more people coming through just to watch the matches, and not all of the regular costumers appreciated the extra crowd while they tried to drink away their sad, pathetic, poor excuse for a life into oblivion. Seriously, if your job or wife was so bad that you looked forward to your first scotch of the night, drinking it down like it was the solution to every problem in the world, wasn't it time for your two weeks notice and the divorce talk?

I heard some cheers from the next room and moved to a spot behind the bar so that I could see what was going on. A man had Logan down on the mat, up against the cage, and kicking him. I watched as he kicked him repeatedly with his big motorcycle boots. I could imagine the pain and began feeling sick to my stomach, as if I were the one being fought. It didn't take much longer before Logan found his footing and go back up. He shoved him into the wire, punching him in the stomach over and over until the man began to throw up. Logan was named the winner and the rest of the fights were called for the night so that the cage could be cleaned out.

It didn't take hardly half an hour before almost the entire fighting crowd was gone and the bar was left littered only with a handful of people, a very unusual thing for a Friday night.

I saw Logan coming into the bar room to sit down, so I grabbed a beer and sat it down on the counter, giving him a smile small.

He smiled back and sat down on the stool in front of me. "Thanks," he said.

"Nice fighting, I think I even got a little sick on that one," I said sarcastically.

"Are you this nice to all of your customers or do I get special treatment?" he asked with a sideways smirk.

I let out a sigh and pretended to ponder the thought. "I do believe that you get special treatment, but let's not tell anyone, they might get jealous," I said with a smile.

At that time, over the noise of the radio, TV and people talking, I heard someone start singing 'Happy Birthday'. When I looked to my left I saw Viv carrying a small cupcake with a candle in it and singing; _'Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Chloe, happy birthday do you,'_

"Thank you," I said, taking the plate with the cupcake on it and blowing out the weak flame that danced on top of it before pulling out the candle and locked the icing off it, then throwing it away.

"Why don't you sit down and eat it, you can take the rest of the night off," she said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"There's not enough people here for you _and_ Tom to be working,"

"Alright," I said, pulling up a stool behind the bar and sitting down.

"Goodnight," she said, leaving to go back upstairs.

"Goodnight," I said. "Would you like a bite?" I asked Logan.

"No," he said, taking a pull of his beer.

"Good, it tastes like crap," I said as I took a bite of the doughy cupcake.

He laughed at me and I was mesmerized by the sound of it. "It's probably poisoned,"

"I think poison tastes better," I said, turning to the garbage can, spitting it out and throwing the rest away. I grabbed myself one of the bottles of water that I kept in a cooler for me and sat back down.

"Did you ever get enough money to buy a car?"

"Not quite, Tom and Viv are going to help me with the rest, though,"

"What kind are you gonna' get?" he asked, taking a drink.

"I don't know, I don't really know about cars, I just want a cheap, used one that I can go back and forth to school in,"

"You should get a truck," he said with a puff of his cigar.

"I can't drive a truck,"

"Why not?"

"Because only certain girls can get away with driving trucks, I'm not one of them,"

"I think you could,"

"I might think about it, then," I said with a smile.

We both sat quietly for a while as he drank his beer and I tried to figure out what song was playing on the radio. When a group of younger guys that were sitting a table a few feet away realized it was Celine Dion, they started booing it. I got cracked up and started laughing and Logan smiled at me. He had an honest smile, one that seemed like a rare thing and that you should feel excited to witness it, but even more excited to be the one who caused it.

He was a beautiful man, no doubt about it. Not only was he typically good looking, but he also had everything that I had found attractive about a man; beautiful eyes that I could get lost in and could spend the rest of my life just staring into. Strong hands; I had always thought that hands could tell a lot about people, and I felt that his strong hands represented a strong person. Not just psychically, I knew that he was psychically strong, but I felt that he would be mentally strong, capable of holding a lot on him, which was, in itself, a double-edged sword. But the clincher, what really sold me on him was; his voice. For as long as I could remember, I had always had an infatuation with men's voices. I would always pay close attention to the sound, the way they wrapped their mouth around words, the deep manly way they would speak, and his voice had quickly became one of my favorites. It was rough and rugged. I found myself wanting him to say anything to me, just to hear him speak.

"Where did you learn how to fight?" I asked, taking a sip of my water.

"I don't know," he said, puffing on his ever-present cigar.

"You don't know, like you just picked it up as you were growing up, or what?"

He looked at me for a moment, before taking another sip from his bottle. "I don't know, like I don't remember. My memory ain't been too good in the past few years,"

"Like amnesia?"

"Yeah, kind'a like that,"

"Wow…I'm sorry," I said sympathetically.

"Don't worry about it, darlin', it's not your fault," he said as a large man came up to where I was sitting at behind the counter.

"Give me a beer," he said to me.

"Uh, yeah, I'm not working, go tell that guy at the end of the bar," I said, pointing to Tom.

"You're already back there, why can't you just give me a beer?"

"Because I'm not _working_," I repeated with a slight…okay, more than _slight_, condescending tone.

"Maybe you shouldn't be behind the bar if you're not working," he said.

"Maybe you should leave if you have a problem with me sitting behind my own bar,"

He swore at me, calling me a whore.

Logan stood up and pulled the cigar from his mouth. "Hey bub, I think she told you to leave," he said.

"Who are you, her pimp?" the man asked, and with that, Logan swung a punch to his nose, making it bleed immediately. He grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him out the door.

"What's going on?" Tom asked, running over to where I was standing, staring out the door after Logan.

"Just an unruly customer, Wolverine's taking care of it," I said sheepishly.

"I didn't seem him acting unruly,"

"He called me a name," I defended.

"So Wolverine punched him?"

"Yeah,"

"He's settling it then, it won't be a problem for me in the morning, will it?" he questioned.

"Well…once he gets done doing whatever he's doing to him, I doubt he'll be coming back here again. So, I'm thinking there won't be a problem,"

"Are you sure?"

"Look, it wasn't my fault, I just told him that I wasn't working and that he should go to you to order, then he said something else, I told him to leave, he called me a name and Logan punched him,"

"Who's Logan?"

"That's Wolverine's name,"

He looked at me hard for a moment, thinking. "Okay then, tell him his order is on the house tonight," he said.

"Alright, I will," I said with a weak smile as he walked away.

After about five minutes, Logan walked back into the bar, looking very casual and as if nothing had happened. He came over, sat back down on his bar stool and took another long drink from his bottle, finishing it off in one smooth gulp.

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" I said to him.

"Yeah, I know,"

"I've had guys say worse things than that to me before, it's nothing new,"

"Just 'cause someone's done it before doesn't mean it's right, kid,"

"So are you going to beat up every guy that says something like that to me?"

"I don't see no reason why I wouldn't,"

A small smile danced across my face. I felt bad about misjudging him before and was happy that he hadn't let it bother him. I was also happy because I finally had someone to talk to.

* * *

The summer faded away and soon we found ourselves in the middle of November. It had been three months and Wolverine was sill there, breaking the record for the longest winning streak of a fighter by a month and a half. I was surprised by how well we had learned to get along with each other. I looked forward to seeing him every night and enjoyed watching him fight more than I had anyone else. I think it was because he looked so natural while doing it, it wasn't forced, he was very good at it and it showed.

It was a Saturday night and I was working the bar when a man in a suit came in. I assumed he was just another lawyer who hated his life and wanted to drown himself in vodka, so I didn't think anything about going up to him and asking for his order.

"I'm not here for a drink," he said.

"Oh, if you're here for the fights, they're in there," I said, pointing to the room where Logan was head butting a man.

"Actually, I'm a legal representative from Happy Homes Foster Care; I'm here on behalf of Christopher Wells. Do you know where I can find Tomas and Vivian Griffiths?"

"Uh, yeah, Tom's at the end of the bar just there," I said, pointing to Tom just as Nancy walked up to me.

"Chloe, Wolverine needs a shot," she said.

"Are you Chloe Wells?" the man asked.

"Yes I am, and tell him he's got like, half a bottle of Jack Daniels in his corner,"

"He wants a glass," she said, smiling at the man.

"You're not old enough to be working here," he said.

"No, I'm not old enough to sell alcohol, but I can waitress," I told him, grabbing a shot glass and handing it to Nancy. "Here, tell him if he breaks this one, he's cleaning it up,"

"If who breaks what?" Nancy asked.

My head felt like it was pounding and I wanted to scream. "If Logan breaks that glass, the one I just gave you, he's going to have to clean up after himself," I said slowly.

"Wolverine's the one that needed the glass, not Logan,"

"Wolverine _is_ Logan, that's his _real_ name," I said, trying to stay calm.

"Oh, okay," she said, turning and leaving.

I let out a sigh of frustration. "I'm sorry sir, what can I do to help you?"

"I need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths about your father,"

"What about him?"

"I would prefer to discus it with them first," he said as two men were dragging their friend from the fighting room and heading outside through the door to my left.

"Hey, tell your friend he owes us some money," one of them yelled at me.

"Hey, tell your friend when he wakes up, that if he fights a man three times and loses he's more than likely to lose the forth time,"

"He fights cheap," the other friend said.

"You got a problem with how he fights; you take it up with him, not me, sweet cheeks," I said as Logan let out a loud growl from the next room.

The suited man looking through the doorway and saw Wolverine kicking a man on the floor of the cage after he had won the match.

"Is this really a suitable place for a young lady to grow up?" he asked me, looking shocked by the place.

I gave him a smile and shook my head. "It's not as bad as it seems, I assure you. I haven't had any social problems so far, and I don't think I will,"

He sighed. "Where did you say I could find your foster parents, again?" he asked, rubbing his brow.

"Tom's there are the end of the bar, he's the guy with gray hair and plaid flannel shirt," I said.

"Okay, thank you," he said, walking to the end of the bar.

The man from Happy Homes stayed until it was almost time to close and Logan was done fight and had come to sit on the stool in front of me, where I was sitting behind the bar, watching the man and Tom talking.

"Are you alright?" Logan asked me after a moment.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, giving him a quick glance and noticing that he had blood on his face. "You have a bit of blood on your forehead," I told him, pointing to where it was and he quickly wiped it off with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You've been watchin' that guy all night, who is he?"

"He's from Happy Homes Foster Care,"

"What does he want?" he asked, lighting up a cigar and puffing out the smoke.

I fanned the smoke away from my face with my hand. "I don't know, he wouldn't tell me, but he said that he was here on behalf of my dad," I pulled my feet up to the top bar of the stool, propped my elbows on my knees and held my face in my hands.

"It's probably just because he's gettin' outta jail," he said to me over the sound of the TV. A Senator from the United States was arguing with someone named Dr. Green or Grey (one of those color names) about the Mutant Registration act in America. I hated the news.

"What if I have to go live in foster care again until it's decided where I'll live?"

"Why would you have to do that?"

I looked at him again. "You must have really beaten those guys tonight, you've got some more blood under your eye," I said as he wiped it away once again with his shirtsleeve. "They may make me go back because I'm not old enough to be working in a bar; they could say that they're unfit for me to live with. And I'm not real sure how legal cage fighting is. Illegal things and underage kids don't usually mix well for the most part,"

"I wouldn't worry about it,"

"That's easy for you to say, you didn't have to live in that place. It was gross and crowed; I never got along with the other kids,"

"You don't get alone with anyone," he interrupted.

"Yeah, but these kids were mentally damaged, or something. They use to call me Socket Girl because my hair was slightly frizzy and they said that I looked like I had stuck my finger in an electrical socket,"

He laughed. "Yeah, that's real terrible, kid," he said sarcastically, talking around his cigar.

I looked at him. "To an eight year-old it is," I defended.

"Yeah, now I know why it doesn't bother you when those guys come in here calling you names; Socket Girl's pretty bad," he said with a smirk.

"Shut up, you've got a cool name; Wolverine. You don't have any right to make fun of me unless you can understand the pain of a bad nickname,"

"That was over seven years ago, you could probably step on half the kids there your age now," he said, pulling the new cigar from his mouth and holding it between his fingers. He was referring to my height, as I was a little over five feet eleven inches tall, dwarfing Tom and Viv by a good four inches at the tallest as I grew.

"I would get the crap beat out of me if I lived there again,"

"Why do you think that?"

"Look at me," I said, sitting up straight. "I'm not intimidating; I scream 'beat me up,'"

"No you don't,"

"Yes I do, I'm weird looking,"

I was tall, had blonde curly hair, big brown eyes, very pale skin and I was, I thought, a little bit _too_ lanky.

"Not to mention just weird," he said with a wink.

"Jerk," I said, punching his shoulder. "Ouch, what have you got in your sleeve, that hurt!" My hand felt like I had hit a solid wall.

"Nothing, that was a bad punch," he said, sticking his cigar back in his mouth.

"See what I mean, then? If I hurt myself from just hitting your shoulder, then I'm going to be dead in like, three days of getting there,"

"You don't even know if you're going back there, why are you worrying about it?" he asked.

"Because I don't want to go back and it's normal for people to worry over stuff that might change their life just slightly,"

"Where is that place?"

"It's down south in Calgary,"

"Did you make any money tonight?"

"Are you changing the subject?"

"Yeah,"

"I made fifty dollars from one guy before that man came in and I couldn't any anymore,"

"Are you ever gonna' get me a beer?"

"No, you have to ask Tom for one while that guy's here," I said just as the man and Tom shook hands and the man started walking back over to where I was sitting. I tried to act casual, as if I hadn't spent those few hours of him being there just staring at him.

"Miss Wells, may I had a word with you?" he asked, looking to me and then to Logan. "Alone,"

Logan made a noise that sounded like a small growl before standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid,"

"No tip?" I asked with a smile.

"Yeah, don't talk to strangers," he said after blowing out the smoke from his cigar and then gave me a small wink.

"I'll keep that in mind when I'm working the street corners next week," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Goodnight Logan,"

"Goodnight," he said, leaving.

Once Logan was gone, the man sat down on his bar stool. "My name is Mr. Edgers and I'm here because you're father would like for you to live with him once he's out of jail,"

"I know, he wrote me a letter,"

"I'm sure you would like to meet him first,"

"I would like to know why he's in jail,"

"I don't think it's my position to tell you,"

"Then I don't want to even keep this conversation going, if I don't know what my father did that made him get sent to prison then I don't want to meet him and I'll file for legal emancipation from him so that I can live on my own,"

He looked at me with frustration and sighed. "Miss Wells, I just think that he, or even your foster parents, should be the ones to tell you, not me,"

"Tom and Viv know what he did?" I asked, immediately feeling stupid for having never though to ask them about it. I had always assumed that they didn't know either, but they had to read my background check before taking me in, so of course they would have known about my father.

"Yes, they know," he said.

"Hey Tom," I yelled down the bar.

"Yeah?" he said, walking towards me.

"Why did my father get sent to prison?"

He looked at Mr. Edgers and then back to me. "Look, this isn't my business," he said to me, throwing his hands up and walking away.

I got up from my stool and kicked the cabinets behind the bar. "It looks like you've just wasted your time, Mr. Edgers. I'm not going to see my father without knowing what he's done, so if you're not going to tell me, Tom's not going to tell me and he's not told me in the thirteen years that he's been gone, then I'm just going to contest the hearing when he gets out of prison. I know that you're thinking that me working in a bar is going to be a pretty good case in my father getting me back, because you think that this is unfit, but guess what; I'm old enough to tell the court where I want to live and why. My father is a convicted felon, I don't care if he was sent away for stealing lawn gnomes, he went to prison for thirteen years. He's not been there for me, not paid for anything that I own; do you know how many letters he's sent me since he's been gone? One, and that was three months ago, he just wanted to tell me that he was getting out soon and that he was sorry for what he did to me. I've been lied to all of my life, I know that there's another reason that he wants me to live with him, I'm just not sure what it is yet, but I suggest that if you know anything about it for you to tell me so that when the trial comes up, I won't screw it up for you,"

"How could you screw it up for me?" he asked.

"Because I've been here for seven years and you're the first person from Happy Homes to even come here. Now, that doesn't seem like you're doing a very good job down there, does it. I wonder if they investigated your foster care system how many families they would find that haven't been contacted for an update on the kids. I wonder what they would think of the actual kids there, is it still four to a room there, in those little rooms with the bars across the windows? Oh, and I must know Mr. Edgers, how about those little closets that you put the kids in for punishment, did you put anymore of those in or did you just keep the two you had while I was there? No, I wouldn't want anything like that to accidentally _slip out_ while I'm on the stand,"

He glowered at me, pursing his lips and thinking. "Your father was charged with two counts of armed robbery, that's why he's in prison,"

"Alright, when does he want to meet me?"

"This coming Wednesday,"

"I have school, what about next weekend?"

"He wanted to meet you as soon as possible, but I guess the weekend will work. I'll contact you later in the week with all of the information,"

"Alright," I said as he stood up.

"It was nice to meet you," he said, shaking my hand.

"Yeah, you too," I lied, accidentally shocking him. "Sorry, static," I apologized halfheartedly.

"It's fine," he said, leaving.

I watched as he left and suddenly felt the urge to cry, so I ran upstairs. Tom would just have to get over me leaving early. As soon as I got to my room I sat down on my bed and for thirty minutes or more, I just cried. It had been years since I had shed a tear, so as I found myself bawling I also found myself feeling sick. I heard a knock on my door, rushed to wipe the tears from my eyes, and fanned my face, trying to keep from looking red and like I had been crying.

"Come in," I called.

My door opened and Tom walked into my room. "You left early,"

"I know," I said, looking down at my scuffed up shoes.

"What else did that guy have to say?"

"He wants me to meet with my father next weekend,"

"I don't think that that's a good idea,"

"Why not?"

"I just don't think that you need to meet him until it's time for the trial,"

"But I want to,"

"No,"

"What?" I asked, looking up at him.

"We're not going to take you,"

"That's not fair, it's my father, and I should be able to meet him,"

"We're not taking that much time off for to have a ten minute meeting with him. You'll just have to wait a couple of more weeks,"

"I'll go on my own, then,"

"You can't drive into the states by yourself," he reminded me.

"Well then why can't Viv just go with me, you can stay here and run the bar. We won't be gone but for a few days,"

"No, you're not going and that's it," he said, leaving and closing the door behind him.

It wasn't right, why wouldn't he let me go see my own father? I would only be gone for a few days. I had to think of a way to get to Seattle without them stopping me. It was at that time when I had a sudden idea. I waited until Tom and Viv were in bed and asleep, then I pulled on a sweatshirt, hat and tied a scarf around my neck. I then snuck down stairs, out the front door of the bar and ran to the truck sitting in our parking lot. I rapped lightly on the back of the camper door, beginning to regret ever getting out in the cold weather. The camper began to shake and soon Logan was opening the door and staring at me sleepily.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking suddenly awakened.

"Can I ask you for a favor?"


	4. Of All the Gin Joints

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Marvel, though I wouldn't mind it if they offered some to me?

Sidenote: Originally my story was going to end at this chapter, but I decided to go on with it and I got a little carried away. So, please read and tell me if I should have just stopped, or if you're glad that I kept going. Also, if you don't mind, please tell me what you_ don't_ like about the story, or my writing, so I can improve it next time. Please enjoy!

* * *

"Look, I don't want to get involved with this," Logan said to me after I finished explaining my plan to him. We were both sitting in his camper talking. He was on his cot and he had pulled over a bucket for me to sit on.

"You won't _be_ involved; Tom and Viv will never know you had anything to do with it,"

"What if you get in trouble?"

"I'll take that risk, but I just want to meet my father and find out what he was actually put into jail for,"

"I thought that guy told you it was for armed robbery?"

"That's what he said, but he was just lying so that I would agree to meet him,"

"I don't like the situation kid, what if somethin' happens to you while I'm not there? I think you'd be better off if I stayed with you,"

"No, because then they would know that you had something to do with it. All you need to do is to drive me to Seattle, come back and fight, then on Sunday come back and get me. I'll only miss two days of school and I'm paying for all of your gas, food and you can have free drinks for a month,"

"The money's not a problem; I can pay for everything on my own. When I'm worried about is you bein' there by yourself. How do I know this guy ain't just blowin' smoke up your-"

I held up my hands, stopping him mid-sentence. "Never mind, I'll just wait until the trial to see him," I said as I stood up as far as I could and moved to go out the door of the camper. "Thanks for talking to me,"

"Hey…hey," he said, grabbing my wrist gently and pulling me back. "Alright, I'll do it, but I'm stayin' until I make sure that you're all right before I leave,"

"Thank you!" I said, flinging myself at him and hugging him. I felt him tense up at my touch, so I moved away, tucked the hair behind my ears and beaming at him. "Sorry," I apologized for throwing myself at him in my state emotion.

"It's alright, just get out of here before I change my mind,"

"Thank you!" I said again before I left.

I ran to the house, snuck back upstairs and into my room. I finally had time to really think about the situation once I was in bed and trying to go to sleep. I was so scared of everything that would happen, or even worse, what _wouldn't_ happen. What if I liked him, what if I hated him? What if I couldn't deal with the real reasons for why he had to leave me at such a young age? Then I realized that I would be spending hours riding with Logan. What if we couldn't think of anything to talk about? We were complete opposites of each other and I had hardly spoken to him when alcohol wasn't involved. I didn't know what was going to happy, and I was scared, nervous, excited and anxious about the trip. I knew it was going to be interesting, if nothing else. That whole week was the longest week of my life.

* * *

"Do they know that you're not runnin' away, or anything?" Logan asked me as I climbed into his truck and buckled myself in.

"Yeah, they think that I'm going on a field trip with my school, which is why I wanted to park my truck here while I'm gone,"

Logan had followed me as I drove my truck to school that night after he had finished fighting. I was going to leave me truck and ride with him. Tom and Viv had gone to sleep before I snuck out and they wouldn't wake up until after I was supposed to be at school.

It was going to take fourteen hours to get to Seattle and fourteen to get back. It was nearly three in the morning when we left and Logan was expecting us to get there by five o'clock that afternoon. They were an hour behind us, so it wasn't going to be too bad. He was going to call and tell Tom that his truck had broken down a few hours away and wouldn't be able to make it for the night. Tom would no doubt be pissed that his fighter wasn't going to be there on a Friday night, but I was sure that he would get over it. I was going to spend the next night in a hotel in Seattle, see my father on Saturday, stay that night in town as well, and then Logan was going to come and pick me up. If everything went as well as planned, I would be back home a little after eleven in the morning on Monday, spend the day as though I had gone to school, and Tom and Viv would be none the wiser.

"What kind of field trip?" he asked.

"I don't know; why does it matter?"

"If you're gonna' lie it's gotta' be believable, so where did you tell them that you were going?"

"I told them that we were going to watch a show up in Edmonton,"

"What kind of a show,"

"Well, if you must know, I said 'Oklahoma,'"

"And they believed you?"

"Hey, believe it or not, I actually like musicals, so I would appreciate it if you didn't make fun of my make believe field trip,"

"You've got more problems than I thought,"

"Oh shut up, just because I'm cultured and you're not does _not_ mean that I have problems,"

"Cultured?" he said condescendingly.

"Yes, just because I'm sixteen and live in a bar with my foster parents does not mean that I don't have a right to appreciate a musical,"

"Watchin' people make idiots of themselves doesn't count as being 'cultured'; it just means that you need to find better things to do with your time,"

"Like wrestling shirtless in a cage with sweaty men!" I said sarcastically. "Please forgive me; I apologize for ever thinking that you don't have better hobbies than me,"

"Are you gonna' talk the whole time?" he asked, looking at me with a smirk.

"No, I'm going to sleep, but I'm going to snore so that I annoy you even when I'm not awake,"

He laughed. "Then shut up and go to sleep,"

"I'm not sleepy right now,"

"When are you gonna' get sleep, then?"

"I don't know, talking helps me to fall asleep," I said. "Do you have a heater; it's freezing in here,"

He turned the heater on. "Put your hands on the vents, it'll warm up in a little bit," he said, pointing to the vents.

"So, where did you come from?"

"I thought we talked about this before?"

"No, where did you live before you moved into our parking lot?"

"A place over in British Columbia,"

"What place?"

"It's called Wolverine's Range,"

"Is that where you got your name from?"

"No,"

"Where did you get it, then?"

"I don't know,"

"You have it engraved on dog tags but you don't know where you got it?"

"Look, I don't remember, alright?" he said a little aggressively.

"Alright," I said, looking out at the falling snow through the side window.

That was the one thing that I had mixed feelings about moving from Canada for; the weather. I loved winter, snow and cold weather, but at times, it got a little ridiculous.

We both say quietly for a couple of minutes as he drove and I continued to stare out my window.

"I'm sorry,"

"For what?" I asked, confused.

"For gettin' mad,"

I smiled and let out a little laugh. "It's fine," I said. "I'm not fragile, or anything, people tend to yell and scream at me, it doesn't bother me,"

"Just because it doesn't bother you doesn't mean people should do it,"

"You know, to be a man who makes a living out of fighting other guys, you sure have a lot of morals,"

"You don't?"

"I know that having morals makes a difference, not everyone agrees with yours so obviously there's not a set standard for how people believe and if there's not a set for people to go by then what are you supposed to believe in?"

"You go with what you think is right,"

"But what _is _right? What if what's right for me is wrong for someone else, is it still right?"

"That's why you trust your instincts, they don't lie,"

* * *

"Hey…Chloe, wake up,"

"What?" I asked, pulling the side of my face from the cold, sweating window of Logan's truck.

"We're at a gas station, do you wanna' go use the toilet and get something to eat?"

I looked around sleepily. "Where are we?"

"About four hours away from Laughlin City,"

I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. It was a little after seven that morning and I had been sleeping for about three hours worth of our trip thus far.

"Yeah, let's go," I said, reaching for my seat belt and trying to unbuckle myself, but it was stuck. I was still sleepy and tried to focus on the buckle. "I think I'm stuck," I finally admitted, letting go in frustration.

"It's kind'a screwed up, you have to push it right," he said, reaching over and jiggling the seat belt until it 'popped', unbuckling it for me.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing my hat, pulling it on and hopping out of the car.

I followed Logan into the gas station and went straight to where the drinks were. I needed some caffeine if I was going to stay awake for the rest of the ride. I grabbed two Coco-Colas, assuming that we would probably stop again before we got to Seattle, as we still had at least ten hours of driving left. I then went to where Logan was at, looking at the food. I grabbed a bag of chips, gummy bears, a box of Twinkies and some beef jerky.

"Nice breakfast," he said sarcastically.

"It's a gas station, what are you supposed to get for breakfast?"

He didn't say anything, he just turned and walked over to the section where they had boxes of chicken fingers and potato wedges for sale; he grabbed two and started to the cash register. I followed him, tripping on the edge of one of the aisles. He looked back at me and laughed.

"Leave me alone, I'm still sleepy," I defended, but smiled at him.

"Hurry up and put your stuff up here," he said.

"I am hurrying," I said, walking to stand beside him and placing my odd items beside his. He reached for his wallet. "Oh, I'm paying for this," I said, digging into my pocket for the money that I had stuffed into it in a hurry earlier that morning.

"I've got it, don't worry about it," he said, pulling out his wallet and handing the young woman behind the counter twenty-five dollars. He looked at me as I teetered sleepily back and forth, covering my yawn with my hand. "Are you gonna' make it back to the truck?"

"Yeah, I'm wide awake," I said with a laugh. "Uh, where's your restroom at?" I asked the woman at the register.

"It's right back there," she said, pointing to a door.

"Okay, thanks. I'm going to run in there real quick before we leave,"

"Alright, I'll be out there waitin'," he said, grabbing the bags with our food and heading towards the door.

I rushed through using the bathroom, noting how rough I looked in the mirror. My hair looked like a mess underneath my hat, all of my clothes were wrinkled and my right cheek was still slightly pink from leaning against the window.

"_Oh well," I thought. "I don't have anyone to impress,"_

I went back out to the truck, not happy to have to be scrunched up in the small seat for any longer, but knowing that it was my idea, so I wasn't going to complain. I climbed back in, buckled myself up once more and he pulled over to the side of the gas station.

"Here," he said, handing me one of the bags.

After six more hours of driving, we had eaten our chicken and potato wedges, chips, pork rinds, Twinkies, gummy bears and almost all of the beef jerky, which I had stuck the rest in the glove compartment for later. Somewhere along hour four, he was amused by the fact that if you squish red gummy bears between your teeth it made your gums look like they were bleeding.

With nearly four hours left to go he pulled over for more gas and a bathroom break for me. We spotted a hamburger place next to it and ran over for lunch.

"Are you gonna' get in trouble for missin' school?" he asked as we were eating.

"No, I called in yesterday pretending to be Viv and told them that I was going to miss today because I had to go to a funeral and that I wouldn't be there Monday because I had an appointment with the dentist,"

"You really don't have enough supervision,"

"Probably not," I said with a laugh.

"If you don't have to live with your dad do you get to stay where you're at?"

"I don't know. If I'm not with him I'm not sure how it'll work out, because I won't technically need to be with a foster family and if that's the case then they probably won't keep paying for me to live with Viv and Tom," I said.

"Can't they adopt you?"

"No, they won't. The only reason they even took me in was that when you keep a foster child the government pays you so much to take care of them. About eight years ago, they had some financial problems and a spare bedroom, so I seemed like a good solution," He looked at me for a moment and I swear he felt sorry for me, they way his eyes were so full of concern put me off slightly. I didn't need him to pity me, I needed him to be touch and strong, not caring about how I felt, because if he started to feel sorry for me, the 'He-man' of my bar, then I would start to feel the same way, which was not how I wanted to start feeling sixteen years into my life. I looked away from him, forcing a small laugh. "I thought everyone knew that,"

"But you want to stay with them?"

"Yeah…I mean, it may seem…odd, but they're like my family, I guess, they're the only ones I've known who haven't just kicked me to the side when I've been hard to deal with, which is, as you know, most of the time,"

He gave me a small, weak smile and nodded his head. "Will you have to go back to that foster place if they don't want you to live with them anymore?"

"Probably, but I've been thinking about it and I thought I might try to get in touch with my aunt to see if I couldn't live with her. Now that I'm older and go to school and can get a job, I probably wouldn't be such a problem for her,"

"You want to live with her even after she gave you away?"

"I wouldn't be by myself, so I wouldn't care,"

"Alright, are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah,"

After another four more hours of driving, we were finally in Seattle. I had planned everything out so carefully, or so I thought. However, I had forgotten that while driving into the city, we would have to go through my old neighborhood, and so when I spotted my old house I couldn't stop myself from crying. Logan stopped the truck, pulling it over to the side of the road, unknowingly right in front of the house.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry," I said, wiping the tears from my face. "That's where I used to live,"

He looked up at the house and swore. "I'm sorry kid, that's where your mother-"

"Yeah," I said, suddenly not wanting to hear him say it.

It all seemed too real, like I hadn't been living with it for all of those years, but as if I had just been told what had happened and suddenly I was full of so many emotions that I didn't know what to do with myself. I was sad because I had never gotten to have my mother for as long as I should have, I was mad at my stepfather for being the reason why she was gone, and I hated my father for leaving us. It was his fault that she had been remarried; it was his fault that she had met that stupid man.

I sat there and cried, not able to stop. He didn't try to comfort me; I didn't want him to. I wanted to be allowed to hate, to be mad and to miss her. I wanted to be allowed to cry and feel without anyone making fun of me, without having to hide what was hurting me. I didn't want anyone to hug me and to tell me that it was all going to be okay, because it wasn't. I didn't have a family; I didn't have anyone who loved me, who didn't have an ulterior motive for doing things for me. The only hope that I had was in a man whom I hadn't seen in thirteen years, he was my only hope for having someone genuinely love me and want to take care of me, and I couldn't have hated him more than I did at that moment.

* * *

"Alright, listen to me; I'll be here to pick you up on Sunday around this time, do _not_ go anywhere except to see your father, that was the deal," Logan said to me after I had checked into my hotel and was getting my bags out of his truck.

"Okay, I'll be here waiting on you, so don't forget me," I said with a smile.

"I'm not going to," he assured me.

"Look, I really appreciate this, I know you've got to be dead tired, so thank you a lot,"

"I'll be fine, just talk to your father and get everything you need to know, we ain't gonna' be makin' this trip every weekend,"

I smiled at him and let out a sigh. "I'll see you on Sunday, then," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Bye,"

"Bye," he said as I closed the passenger's side door, and then he drove off.

I watched as his truck went down the road and saw that he was my only life, my only hope in my crazy life. He cared about me and as drastic a step as it may have seemed, I decided that when I saw him again on Sunday, I would ask him if I could live with him after the trial. We would be great together, he could go fighting and I could take the bets on him. We could have made a great living together and it wouldn't be too bad to have someone to talk to all the time. I would also get to travel a lot, which I had always wanted to do. He seemed to actually care about me, at least more than anyone else had, and it wouldn't hurt to at least ask, the most he could do was say 'no'. I tried not to get my hopes up, but the thought of living with him got me excited and as I went to sleep that night, I began to plan my life with him, and it looked great as far as I could see.

* * *

The next day I was terrified, more so that I ever had been. The future of how my next two years would be spent would unofficially be decided upon me meeting my father.

I caught a cab down to the prison where he was supposed to be at, but when I told one of the guards that I was there to see Christopher Wells, they said that he wasn't there.

"What do you mean he's not here? I was supposed to see him today; I had a meeting set up with one of his representatives,"

"I'm sorry, he's not here," he said.

"Do you know the address to any of the other prisons around here?" I asked.

"No, he was released, he's not in prison any longer,"

"What, when was he released, what was his release date?"

"Uh…" he said, flipping back through some papers on a clip board. "Wednesday,"

I resisted the urge to kick the wall, even though that what I wanted to do. "Alright, thank you," I said, walking away.

I went out the door and sat down on the steps. I was sitting there for, literally, not even two minutes when it started to pour down rain. The great thing about the rain is that when you cry, no one can tell.

* * *

Sunday night I was starting to get a little nervous, it was past nine o'clock and Logan was nearly five hours late from when he had told me he would pick me up.

"_Where is he?"_ I wondered; looking out the window into the rain flooded parking lot.

After it turned one a.m. I decided to call home and tell Tom and Viv where I was. "Hello?" Viv said into the phone.

"Hey, uh, I'm having a bit of a problem,"

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I know that I told you that I was going to Edmonton, but I lied, I'm in Seattle,"

"How did you get to Seattle?"

"I paid someone to bring me, but they were supposed to come and pick me up at give, they're seven hours late,"

"What do you want me to do; you got yourself into this mess,"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that, but I need a way home, otherwise I'm going to be stuck here,"

"I'll call some airports and see if I can't get you a flight in tonight,"

"Alright, thank you," I said.

I left her my room number and waited for her to call me back, which she did at fifteen to two, telling me that I had to hurry and get to the airport, there was a flight leaving in twenty-five minutes. It was nearly six in the morning when I got home. They let me sleep for the rest of the day, and Tom took me to pick up my truck later that night. They didn't say anything about it and just left me to my own thoughts. By that night, I was furious that Logan had forgotten me when he told me that he wouldn't and I was looking forward to letting him have it, but as the time dwindled down and the clock struck eight, he was no where to be seen and I was starting to worry about him. I was about to go looking for his truck when Sid started the fights, saying that our fighter was gone and that they needed a new one.

"Tom, where's Wolverine?" I asked.

"He left," he said, sounding slightly angry.

"Why?" I asked, very confused. Had Tom found out that he was the one who had taken me to Washington?

"He got into a fight with one of the customers,"

"So? That's what he's paid to do,"

"No, it was different,"

"How?"

He looked at me hard, walked over to me and dropped his voice. "He's one of those freaks,"

"What?"

"He's a mutant,"

Have you ever had one of those moments where everything seems to go in slow motion, but your heart speeds up and your mind starts reeling at a mile a minute? Where everything you thought begins to unravel and make up what was actually real? Where things that you couldn't explain, but had overlooked, suddenly made complete sense? That's exactly what was happening to me at that moment.

"I have to go," I said.

"Where?"

"Up to the house, I'm not feeling good," I said, running to the stairs and up through the kitchen and into my room. I locked my door and fell onto my bed.

How could I have been so stupid? I finally realized the reason to why I had felt a connection with him, it wasn't because we were both alone, because neither of us had a family and were searching for something. He hadn't taken up with me because he had wanted something from me, like I had originally thought. I guess Rick Blaine said it best in 'Casablanca' "_Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine"_ Except his she was my he. No, the reason why he had taken care of me was because he knew that I had a hard road ahead, because he knew what it was like to be a mutant and to be scared and hiding it from the world. He wanted to protect me because he knew that I was a mutant, too.


	5. You Can't Handle the Truth

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel characters, though if they wanted to give me a mini Wolverine I wouldn't say no.

Sidnotes: I've never been in a bar, I've got about 4 more years before I'm even old enough to, I've never drank alcohol and I don't know the darndest thing about cars, so if I mix some things up every now and then, please forgive me, as that's the joy of it being _'fiction'_. Also, as I stated in the last chapter, I was going to end the story there, but got carried away and kept writing for about three weeks longer, so this was an after-thought of the original story idea and I hope you like it!

* * *

The trial was held in Seattle the next month, in mid-December. That's when the judge read the charges that my father had been imprisoned for aloud. My stomach churned, threatening to make me throw up as she described in detail how he had killed a mutant boy who was only fourteen. I tried to stay but I couldn't and ran from the courtroom. A woman who was helping with my case came out to check on me.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked.

"I am _not_ living with him," I said, fighting back angry tears.

"You have to understand that what your father did was to protect you and your mother," she said.

"He was a fourteen year old boy! He was only two years younger than I am, how is that justified by thirteen years in prison? Because he was a mutant? It wasn't his fault, my father _murdered_ someone and I will _not_ live with him,"

"Well, you can tell your concerns to the judge,"

"My concerns? My concern is that it's actually being considered that I live with a murderer, that he have legal custody over me and that no one cares to actually think about how incredibly insane this whole situation is. He should not even be out of prison, let alone be trying to win me back. Does no one else see how crazy this is but me?"

"I know that you're upset, but you have to go back in there,"

"I don't even want to see him again,"

"You have to, for today at least, and then they can decide what will happen,"

I let out a deep breath and resisted the overwhelming urge to run, screaming at the top of my lungs, from the building.

"Fine," I said, going back into the room.

I fought being given over to my father and custody was awarded to my aunt, who had agreed to take me in for the last two years before I was officially an adult. She had moved to New York City since that last time I had seen her. In less than a month, my whole life had changed again completely. I had gone from thinking that I could live with Logan, to having to move to New York City with my aunt, whom had given me away eight years before. Every night I went to sleep, wondering where he was and what he was doing. I couldn't help but think about how he had gone three months fighting before he left, and still, he had left undefeated.

* * *

Slowly six years of my life passed by. My aunt kicked me out when I was eighteen, and I moved in with two of my friends, but when I was twenty years old, I moved in with my boyfriend. At twenty-one I got a job at a bar in a town in Westchester, New York, and at twenty-two, my boyfriend was kicking me out of our apartment. So, as I was going through my things, packing them up while he was gone to see his mother, I came across one of my old journals that I had written about Logan in. I had never let anyone read it because it was the only thing that was mine and that no one could take away from me. However, there was no time for me to be nostalgic, I had to get to work, so I taped up my last box and got dressed before driving down to the bar.

"Hey Chloe," Kayti said to me as soon as I walked in. Kayti was one of the girls that I worked with.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, I was packing," I said, pulling off my jacket and hanging it up.

"You're still moving out, why? Josh treats you so well,"

"Well, sometimes you just have to move on," I said with a forced smile and going back behind the bar.

After being there for about thirty minutes, I was mixing a drink when another one of the girls that I worked with, Leah, came up beside me.

"There's that hot guy again,"

"What hot guy?" I asked, trying to look over my shoulder.

"No, don't look right now,"

"Who is he?"

"I don't know, he's been coming in all week,"

"Of course, the attractive ones only come in when I take time off,"

"Well maybe you should start taking time off, this guy is gorgeous,"

"Okay, you can't say that a guy is gorgeous and not let me turn around and look, that's just wrong and mean,"

"Alright, fine, you can look,"

I causally turned around and looked to where she was nodding her head. There was an attractive, blonde hair, blue eyed, J-Crew model looking guy at the bar. Unsurprisingly there was a small harem of girls right beside him, all laughing and flitting with him. I didn't have time to respond with my opinion because Taryn was yelling and telling me that there was a little bachelor party in the back that needed their order taken.

I grabbed a notepad and pen. "I'm on it," I said, heading towards the back. There was a table with five men all talking very loudly. "Is this the Bachelor party?" I asked, coming up to the table.

"Yeah," a man with red tinted sunglasses said to me.

"So, who's the man of the hour, then?"

"Me," one of the younger guys said, raising his hand.

"What's your name?"

"Bobby,"

"Well congratulations, Bobby, who's the lucky girl?"

"Her name's Marie,"

"Alright, so what can I get for you boys?" I asked.

"Well, we're missing one but he'll be here in a little bit," the man in sunglasses said.

I resisted the urge to ask if he could see in those things, considering it might be slightly rude of me, if he couldn't see at all. Instead, I took their drink orders. He didn't order anything though, and I assumed he could see, as he was the designated driver. I had just finished writing down the last one when I tried to rip the list from the pad, dropping them both in the floor. I bent down to grab it and heard one of the guys say, "The waitress is here, what do you want to drink?"

"I'll have a beer," he said.

I heard his voice and lifted my head so fast from under the next table, which was empty; I knocked my head on the underside of it.

"Are you alright?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, standing. I turned back to look at the table. "I'm afraid I didn't get that last one, what was it?"

The man looked up at me and met my eyes. I knew it was him even before I had seen him, his voice had been seared into my mind, playing over and over when I needed someone to comfort me as I fell asleep.

"Uh…a beer," Logan said.

He was just as gorgeous as I had remembered, and looked as if he hadn't changed a bit. He was quite a sight for my jaded eyes, which got their fair share of pretty boys each night. I drank the sight of him in, and then I realized that I still slightly resented him for leaving me stranded fourteen hours away from my home.

"Alright, I'll uh…be back in just a minute," I said with a smile, leaving the table. It took me less than five minutes to round up all of the drinks onto a tray and head back to the table. I handed everyone their order, saving his for last. "Alright guys, if you need anything else, I'm Chloe, just tell at me and I'll be right over," I said, setting down his beer in front of him with a little more force than the others, sloshing some out. "Sorry," I apologized; cleaning it up with the rag I had with me.

"It's fine," he said to me.

I smiled at him, tucking the hair that was into my eyes behind me ear, which was straight instead of it natural curly. "Alright guys, have a nice night," I said, walking off.

They didn't order anything else for the rest of the night and I was stuck wondering if he remembered me, so I had an idea. I grabbed a shot glass, filled it with some Jack Daniels and headed back to their table. I sat the drink down in front of him and he turned to look at me.

"Here's a whiskey, it's on the house," I said with a smile and a wink.

He didn't say anything; he just nodded and kept his eyes locked with mine. He _had_ to remember after that, unless he was still having memory problems.

* * *

"Hey, you got a _huge_ tip from that bachelor party table," Kayti said to me after she was done cleaning up the tables in the back.

"Really?"

"Yep, two hundred dollars," she said, handing it to me.

"Well, that's rent money right there," I said.

It was nearly one in the morning and they had just left, Logan in two, without me knowing it.

"You know what, tonight's going pretty slow, why don't you take the rest of the night off so you can finish getting all of your stuff from Josh's," Taryn said to me.

"Are you sure?" I asked skeptically.

"Yeah, we've got it covered," she said. Taryn owned the bar; she was in her mid-thirties and treated me pretty well. She understood that men were pigs and went easy on me when Josh and I would have problems.

"Alright, thank you," I said, giving her a hug. "I'll see you guys tomorrow night,"

I went and grabbed my jacket, sliding it on over my _very_ low cut tank top. I took the purse down from its hanger and went out to my truck. I looked around for my keys, but when I found them and tried to turn over the ignition, it wouldn't start. I turned it back and tried to start again, but it was dead. I got out and slammed the door.

"Freakin' piece of crap won't start," I said, kicking the tire, but missing and hitting the hubcap. Yeah, that _metal_ thing in the middle of the tire. "Holy crap! You stupid truck!" I yelled, hobbling along to the front of the truck and lifting up the hood.

"Are you alright?" someone asked from behind me. I turned around and saw the man with the sunglasses and Bobby the bachelor standing beside their car.

"Yeah, I was just checking the durability of the hubcaps; they're on there quite well," I joked with a smile.

"Do you need it boosted?"

No, I needed them to leave so that I could fix it myself, but it would look odd if I told them that.

"Yeah, I think so," I said.

"Do you have any jumper cables?" he asked.

"_Why would _I_ need jumper cables?"_ I thought.

"No, I'm afraid I don't," I said.

"Well, I think I have some in the truck, I'll check," he said, popping the truck with a button on his key ring. He searched around until he pulled out some cables. "Yeah, I've got them right here,"

"You came more prepared than I did," I said.

He smiled at me and walked over to where I was standing at the hood of my truck. "Bobby, pull the car over here closer," he said, tossing him the keys.

Bobby hopped into the car and did just as the man told him, pulling the car about a foot away from my truck, making it look like a genuine piece of junk in comparison.

He hooked the jumper cables to both of the engines and then looked at me. "Hey, weren't you our waitress?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm Chloe," I said, shaking his hand.

"Yeah, one of the guys we were with went back in to look for you,"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you brought him a whiskey,"

"Oh, right,"

"Have you seen him before?"

"Yeah, a few times," I said with a smile. Logan had gone back in looking for me; he _had_ remembered me.

It didn't take long for them to boost my truck off and we stood outside talking while waiting for Logan to come back out.

"How long have you been working here?" Scott, the man with the sunglasses, said to me after he had introduced himself.

"Around two years, I had just turned twenty-one, so…yeah, just about two years," I said. "Where do you work?"

"At a school here in town,"

"How do you know Logan, then?" I asked.

"He works there, too,"

"Are you serious? Logan's a _schoolteacher_, that's brilliant," I laughed.

"What did he tell you that he did?" Bobby asked.

"I knew him before he started teaching,"

"Well, he's been at the school for six years, he's been teaching for about five, how long have you known him?" Scott asked.

"Six years. Your truck messed up?" Logan said, coming from the side door.

I smiled at him. "Yeah, it's your fault," I teased.

"How is my fault?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"You talked me into buying this heap of junk,"

"I told you to get a truck, not that one and you said you were going to learn how to fix it,"

"No, you said you were going to teach me how to fix it,"

"I don't think I did,"

"You did, trust me, I remember. I figured that if you could keep your stupid truck from falling apart on you, that you could show me how to do it with mine,"

"How do the two of you know each other?" Scott asked.

"I used to live in Canada and my family owned a bar that he used to come to all the time. You've still got the record for the longest fighter, but Tom sort of scratched it out after you…left," I said, not knowing how to quite put the situation into words, and also wanting to be careful with what I said, as I didn't know if the Scott and Bobby guys knew about him being a mutant.

"Did they come get you?" he asked.

"No, I had to catch a plane at two in the morning to get there," I said, knowing exactly what he meant.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's alright,"

He let out a small laugh. "Not it's not, you're still pissed at me, that's why you nearly threw my beer down on the table,"

"I didn't nearly throw it down, but yeah, alright, so maybe I am just a little bit, but I'm trying to deal with my anger in a healthy way, so I'm trying to get over my past experiences," He raised an eyebrow at me. "Okay, so maybe it isn't working all that well, I kicked my truck and nearly broke my foot, but I'm working on it,"

He nodded. "What are you doin' down here?"

"Well, I was going to ask the same about you, but I was told that you're a _teacher_ now," I teased. "My aunt lives down here,"

"So you moved in with her, then?"

"Yeah, for two years, then she kicked me out when I turned eighteen, which seems to be a pattern and reminds me that I have to go, I've got to get my stuff from my boyfriend's apartment before he gets back," I said with a sigh. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime?"

"Yeah," he said as I walked over to the driver's side of my truck. "Where are you movin' to?"

"I don't know, he sort of kicked me out on short notice so I haven't found a place yet," I said, trying to make light of the conversation, not wanting them to feel sorry for me.

"Why did he kick you out?" Logan asked.

I thought for a second, trying to think of how I could put it. "You know why Tom threw you out of his bar?"

"Because I got into a fight,"

"No, the reason why he pulled a gun out on you," I said, looking him in the eye from across the hood of my truck.

"Yeah,"

"It's sort of that same…thing. I told him about my situation that relates to yours and was told to pack my things and leave by the end of this weekend,"

Scott and Bobby watched the two of us talking, completely oblivious to what we were actually talking about.

"How did he -" he started.

"I told him,"

"Did he-"

"No, he just told me to leave. I was supposed to be gone by tonight, though," I said, cutting him off.

"Is he gonna' be there when you get back?"

"Probably,"

"I'll go with you,"

"No, you don't have to, I'll be fine,"

"I wasn't making a suggestion darlin', I was tellin' you what I'm doin',"

"But there's no point in you going, I don't even know when I'm going once I leave,"

"You're comin' home with me,"

"What?" Scott and I both asked in unison.

"I can't do that," I said.

"Logan, I don't think that the Professor will-" Scott started.

"Chuck will understand, she'll be fine at the school,"

"She will?"

"I will?"

Logan looked frustrated with the conversation. "She got kicked out because of it," he tried to explain.

"No, I got kicked out…I'm not sure what we're talking about right now and I'm _really_ confused,"

Logan ran his hands through his hair, letting out a sigh, then placing his hands at his waist and looking irritated. "The school is for people like us, kid, now where do you live?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" I said, holding up my hands. "There's a school for people like _us_, that's where you _work_?"

"Yeah,"

"And the owner won't mind me staying the night until I can go out tomorrow and find a place of my own?"

"No," he said.

"Well," Scott started.

"Shut it Summers," Logan growled at him.

"No, he won't mind," Scott agreed, swearing at Logan under his breath and saying something about calling him 'Summers'.

"If this is going to be a problem then I can go stay with a friend, I don't want to cause a riff between the two of you,"

Bobby laughed, and then turned his face down, trying to hide it. Scott shot him a look.

"It's not a problem, there's plenty of room," Scott said begrudgingly.

I thought about it for a minute, it would be nice to have somewhere to stay for the night. It would also be nice to see Logan for a little longer and catch up with him, but it was all too fast and too simple. Generosity didn't like me that much, I was one of the few people that it made pay back for giving me something. There was no such thing as 'no strings attached,' which is what the offer sounded like. I would no doubt have to pay the Professor guy back some how and I was in no fit state to be paying anyone anything. I didn't have anything to give, unless he wanted my truck, which would almost have been worth staying the night for just to get rid of the stupid thing.

"No, I'm not going to impose on you guys like that, he's getting married tomorrow," I said, pointing to Bobby. "It's like one thirty in the morning, or later, it'll be nearly three o'clock before I get all of my stuff, no one's going to want that,"

"Then where are you gonna' stay?" Logan asked.

"I'll go to a hotel, I'll be fine,"

"I'm still goin' with you to get your stuff,"

"There's no point in it, though, I'll be _fine_,"

He let out a long breath, sounding annoyed. "Are you sure?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for offering, though," He stared at me, trying to read me. "I'll see you later, though, yeah? You'll come back and see me again?"

"Yeah,"

"It was nice to meet you Scott and Bobby; maybe I'll see you guys around some time,"

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too," Scott said.

"Bye," I told them, climbing back into my truck.

I drove all the way to Josh's apartment, mad at myself for just leaving Logan the way that I had. I had spent six years missing him, wondering about him and within the course of one night, let him slip away again. He had said that he would come back to see me again, though, so I counted on him keeping his promise. Maybe then, I could talk to him some more and catch up with him.

I pulled up to our apartment and saw that Josh wasn't there yet. I let out a relieved sigh; I didn't want to have to deal with him right then, I was tired and just wanted to load my boxes into the back of my truck, get a hotel room and sleep through the morning, right into the afternoon.

I parked the truck, went up to the door, unlocked it and pushed it open. I loaded some of my stuff into the bed of my truck and was in my bedroom getting some of my things together when I heard his car pull up outside. He opened the door and I could hear his footsteps coming up behind me.

"I've got like, three boxes left and I'll be gone," I said to him, picking up one of the boxes and turning around to face him. He was standing right there in front of me, holding a mag-light in his hand. "What are you doing with that?" I asked.

He responded by bringing it up, swinging it down and knocking me out. The last thing I remember is watching my purple bedroom fade into a very dark black.


	6. Stranger Than Fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, although Idid just make a little doll for Mr. Boo-Boo Sock Monkey to play with, so he won't be lonely. I think I'll name her Jean since her hair looks like Dr. Grey's. Anyway, here's the next chapter, please enjoy.

* * *

I woke up in a panic; I had to get out of there before he killed me. I sat up, ready to run away, but realized that I was in a bed in what looked like a hospital room. I reached up, felt the bandage on my forehead, and wondered who had taken me to the hospital? Maybe Josh had felt guilty about what he had done and had called an ambulance, or something. I was sure that the nurses would want to know that I was awake and so I looked around for one of their alert buttons, but I couldn't find one. I continued to look around and noticed that it wasn't a proper hospital, but looked more like a lab of some kind. My mind began to race, what was going on? 

"I'm glad you're finally awake, how are you feeling?" a woman asked me as she walked into the room. She was tall, had red hair and was very pretty.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to keep my voice under control.

"I'm sorry, someone should have been here when you woke up to explain but we've been so busy with the wedding. I'm Dr. Jean Grey; you're at Professor Xavier's school for the gifted,"

"What am I doing here, _how_ did I get here?"

"Logan brought you here,"

"Logan?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, he teaches here,"

"This is the school that he lives at?" I asked, looking around.

"Well, this is just the infirmary, the rest doesn't look this scary," she said with a warm smile.

"But how did he know to bring me here, I went home by myself,"

"He and my husband followed you because he was concerned about you,"

"Your husband?"

"Scott, I think you met him and Bobby last night,"

"Oh, yeah," I said, still very confused. "How did they know what happened to me, they weren't inside when it happened?"

"They heard you scream, so they busted down the door and went in,"

"I don't remember screaming,"

"It's a good thing you did, though, that his was really hard and you were bleeding pretty badly; if they would have gotten you here any later I don't think you would have done so well,"

"What did they do to him?"

"I'm not sure; Scott carried you out to the car and left Logan in there with him,"

"He probably killed him then," I said, the panic from before starting to bubble up again slightly.

She smiled at me. "He didn't kill him; he probably had a few broken bones but nothing for you to worry about. Logan won't get in trouble for anything,"

"How did you…?" I was thinking about what he had done to Josh, worrying that he might call the police on Logan.

"I'm telepathic,"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I can read minds and project thoughts into other people's,"

I looked around me once more. "So this really _is_ a school for mutants?"

* * *

"Miss Wells, I'm glad to see that you're feeling better," a man said to me as I walked into an office with Dr. Grey. Logan, Scott and another woman with white hair was in there with him. "I'm Professor Charles Xavier, this is my school," 

"Hello," I said with a shy smile. "It's actually Rynolds now, instead of Wells,"

"You got married?" Logan said.

"No, it was my mother's maiden name, so I changed it,"

"I apologize, Miss Rynolds, would you like a seat?" he said, motioning to a free chair beside the desk behind which he was sitting.

"It's fine, and yes, thank you," I said, walking to the chair and sitting down.

"I would like to extend an invitation for you to live here at my school. I am quite aware of your situation with the immaturity of your powers and would also like to personally help you with developing them further,"

"What do you mean by developing them; I thought they _were_ fully developed?"

"While you were living with your foster parents I understand that you were slightly hesitant to practice your powers and test your mutation and so they have not been fully developed,"

"How did you know that, I never told anyone?"

"I, as well as Dr. Grey, am telepathic,"

"Is everyone here physic?"

He smiled at me. "Not quite, I would have only assumed as much that Logan would have told you his powers,"

"Well…no, neither of us actually ever…talked about it, I was just told that he was a mutant and I knew that he knew that I was, but I didn't know about it until he left," I said, looking over at Logan. "What _can_ you do?"

"Uh, well…Jean?" he said.

"His mutation is a rejuvenation ability, which allowed for his skeletal structure to be link with an indestructible metal called adamantium, and it makes up the three, twelve inch claws in each hand, which he can detract at will," Dr. Grey explained.

"Oh…that's kind of cool…" I said.

"What about you?" Scott asked.

I lifted my hands, facing the palms together and forced a small amount of energy from both, allowing the electricity to weave around each other until it grew to the size of a tennis ball. "I can get it a little bit bigger than this, but I just thought that that was it,"

"Is it electricity?" the other woman asked.

"Yeah, it's pretty strong; I can usually boot the battery to my truck with it,"

"That's why you didn't have jumper cables," Scott stated.

Logan swore. "Pretty strong? Six years ago you could shock even me," he said.

"When did I do that?"

"One night you were mad at me and when you touched my hand it shocked me,"

"Yeah, that was a bit of a problem, I don't do that anymore," I said, absorbing the energy back into my palms. "Besides, if you've got aluminum running through your body, it would probably hurt you worse than others,"

"It's adamantium, not aluminum," he defended.

"Sorry, adamantium," I apologized.

"I believe that you could develop your powers even further than you have over these past few years, now that you don't have to hide them," Professor Xavier said.

"So this whole school is just to teach mutant kids and you all teach them?"

"That's right," he said.

"And everyone knows what this place is and they're okay with a mutant school?"

"No, the public thinks that we're merely a school for gifted children,"

I tried to take it all in; the whole idea of a school, especially one as big as that one was, full of mutants was so huge, I had never known there _was_ such a thing. He had offered me an invitation to stay there, but my old thinking mentality had stayed intact over all of those years and I couldn't help but wonder _why_ he would want me to stay there. Past experiences proved for me that he needed a motive, one that I didn't know, but the speculation made me uneasy. I had already stayed the night in his house and received medical attention from his staff, more than I wanted to be indebted to him, but enough for me to be grateful.

"I do not expect you to pay me back for any of this," he said.

I looked up at him from where I had been staring at the carpet, thinking. "Oh, I uh…" I said, blushing. I wasn't enjoying my introduction to the telepathic abilities.

"I do, however, wish to offer you a job,"

"A job, like what kind, because I can't teach," I said.

"No, a recruiting job, I've been told of your fantastic people skills," he said and Logan laughed.

I shot him a look. "I wouldn't say that they were 'fantastic' per say,"

"You seemed really comfortable with all of the people last night," Scott said.

I had worked in a bar for more than half of my life, it just seemed natural to me, but I had never thought of it as having good people skills, it was just how I had grown up.

"What sort of recruiting?" I asked.

"I would like for you to help talk to the children who will be eligible to attend the school. I feel that because you are younger and more to their age, that they will listen to you, rather than me or the other members of my staff,"

"Not to be rude, but I sort of have a job already,"

"Uh," the white haired woman said sheepishly. "I'm afraid not, I contacted your boss to inform her that you have been injured and that you might need some time off, but she said that someone had told her that you were a mutant and she said that you were fired,"

I let out a sigh. "That's brilliant," I said sarcastically, running my hands back through my hair.

I knew that I must have looked like a mess. My hair was all over the place, my makeup was smudged and Dr. Grey had given me one of their zip-up gray sweatshirts that was at least two sizes too big to wear over my tank top, which I felt very exposed in outside of work.

"You can live here for free, whether you chose to work for me or not,"

"How do you know which kids can attend and which can't? I mean, you don't just run down random people until you get it right?"

"Not quite, I have a device which allows me to locate humans and mutants, to tell which have powers,"

"I'm sorry but the whole 'powers' thing is sounding all very superheroish, I'm just waiting for you to break out with superhero names, or something," I joked. They all looked at each other. "Oh dear…you do have superhero names, don't you?"

"The woman over there is Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm," he said, pointing to the white haired woman. "You know Scott, also known as Cyclops, Jean, also known as Phoenix, you met Bobby last night, he's not here because he is on his honeymoon with his new wife Marie, they are also known as Iceman and Rouge. If you chose to work for me, you will be sharing your job with them,"

"And you and Logan are…who?"

"Logan is Wolverine and I'm afraid I don't have another name,"

"That's cheap Logan, using your fighting name as a superhero name,"

"We're not superheroes," Logan said to me, sounding slightly upset.

"I don't have a name, do I _need _one?"

"How about Socket-" Logan started, and I knew that 'Girl' was going to finish it.

"You know what Logan, I've gone through a lot of therapy to try and get over that," I said shooting him a look. He just smirked at me. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just trying to grip what's being said here, this is all just a bit odd for me. I mean; is there anything else I should know about before I make fun of it and really just embarrass myself further, there's not some Justice League thing going on here, is there? Some underground group of you guys fighting for truth, justice and the American way, or anything?"

"My group of teachers here, along with Bobby and Marie, makes up what has been named the X-Men. There is a secret war that's being waged between humans and mutants, which we are all fighting in," Professor Xavier started.

"So you're fighting against the humans?"

"No, we are fighting _for_ the humans, _and_ the mutants. My staff and I fight for the unity between the two; we all believe that one day we will all learn to cohabitate with one another. Until then we battle against a very powerful mutant name Eric Lancher, or Magneto, who thinks that they only way for us to not hide is for the humans to be altered into mutants somehow, or for them to be gone completely, and we are constantly fighting to keep him from doing so,"

"Yeah…this is a joke, right? I mean, I've got a concussion and I'm just having some weird dreams induced by either loss of blood or pain medication, because this is all for too…odd, to say the least,"

"This ain't no Saturday mornin' cartoon, kid," Logan said to me.

"Well, it sounds all a little too much like a bad episode of Spiderman or something,"

"I understand that this is quite a lot for you to take in, in one day especially, you have plenty of time to think on my job offer and I'm sure that you're very tired, you may go to your room and sleep if you like," said the Professor.

"My room?"

"Yes, Scott and Logan brought in your things and placed them in a free room that was prepared for you for when you were ready to leave the infirmary,"

I nodded my head. "I apologize for being rude or coming off as ungrateful, I've not been here for a day just yet but I really _do_ appreciate all of the help you've given me. I'm not trying to sound sarcastic or anything, I'm just trying to sift through everything that you're telling me and grasp the important stuff, but I'm getting a little sidetracked with all of the names and this whole X-Men thing. I _am _very thankful that you are giving me a room to use while I'm here and recovering, and I would like to get as much information about the job that you're offering me before I make a decision, and I thank you for both, considering the situation that I've recently found myself in. It's nice to know that I can rest here,"

"You are more than welcome to stay for as long as you wish,"

"Thank you," I said with a small smile.

"Logan, if you would show Miss Rynolds to her room, I'm sure she would enjoy some sleep," the Professor said.

"Yeah," he said, moving from the desk that he had been leaning up against with his arms across his chest, on the other side of the room from where I was seated. "Follow me,"

I got up from my seat and followed him from the room. He led me down a long hall, up a flight of stairs, down another hall, passing a series of doors, a few of which were open, displaying rooms with every few rooms there were various teenagers together, talking or doing whatever. We passed one and a girl came running from the room, nearly running into Logan.

"Sorry, Mr. Logan," she said, blushing.

"It's alright, just watch where you're goin'," he said.

"_Mr_. Logan?" I said with a laugh. "They don't call you Wolverine?"

"No," he said shortly.

He didn't say anything else as he continued to lead me down the hall, around a corner and into a quieter section of rooms.

"So when did you start acting nice?" I asked as he paused outside of a door.

"I don't know, when did you start dressing like a prostitute?"

"When I started working the streets about two years ago," I managed to say with a straight face. As a result, he shot me a look from under his furrowed brows. "I'm joking. Eighty-six the whole nice idea. Anyway,if you wear low cut tops you get better tips,"

"What happened to you?" he asked, looking me over.

"I grew up,"

"No, I thought you weren't gonna' work in bars all of your life,"

"That was when I thought I would have money to go to college, without money a lot of things are hard to do,"

"So you're workin' to go to school?"

"No, I _was_ working to pay for an apartment and the bills of living there, to keep my truck from falling apart all of the time, plus gas and insurance for it. Insurance for me, a cell phone bill, and you've seen how I eat, that takes up a whole paycheck on its own," I said with a smile, looking away.

I looked around us and took in my surroundings. The school seemed as if it had been a nice, big house at one point, but had been turned into a school by the generosity of Professor Xavier. It was old mixed with new, a New England elegance with high tech, and Logan couldn't have looked more out of place, but some how oddly comfortable, there.

He opened the door, pushing it all the way open. "Jean and 'Ro put you clothes that you had with you in the dress and closet, or whatever. You've got your own bathroom and uh…that's the room,"

I stared at him, trying to see if he really had changed or if my memory had fooled me, remembering an exaggerated version of him. He seemed so much calmer than the Logan that I had known. The one from the bar had an animal side waiting to boil over at any given moment, ready to snap at anyone. I could always see it in his eyes when he fought; it was pure, unbridled rage, seething just under the surface, only put away when he spoke to me. But right then, when I was looking at him, he didn't look like Wolverine the fighter, he looked like a dog kept on a leash until it had learned its boundaries. His eyes looked like they no longer belonged to a young, attractive man, but to an old, tired man. He had asked what had happened to me, but I wondered the same thing about him, he had changed as much as I had, maybe even more.

"So, you found a home," I said, more as a statement rather than a question, simply because I was expecting him to just agree with me. There was no way that he could deny that it was his home after six years of living and working there, no matter what the look in his eyes said as they danced around, looking into mine. There was something about him that looked like he still didn't want to be attached to anyone or anything, that he wanted his options to be left open, but he had failed where that school was concerned; he was attached to it and its occupants.

"Yeah," he said, convincing me that, while he may have enjoyed living there, he still have the urge to go running off into the woods, howling at the moon. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

"Good, I'm happy for you, but…" I said, trailing off.

"But what?"

I looked him right in the eye. "I uh…I never thought that you would be teaching and saving the innocent," I joked.

"A lot's happened over the past few years, kid, I guess we've both changed,"

"For the best I hope," I said with a weak smile, looking away and then back at him. "This is so odd,"

"What is?"

"_This_. I never imagined ever seeing you again, I just thought that you were gone, but it's really good to see you and how you're doing. I've thought a lot about you since I last saw you," I admitted, slightly embarrassed.

He nodded his head slowly. "Me, too," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I met Rouge that night I left and she was a year older than you. I've got to see her grow up and get married," he said, shaking his head, muttering swear words and running his hand through the back of his hair. "She reminded me alotta' you. I'm sorry I didn't come get you that night, I was on my way,"

"What happened that night?"

"One of Magneto's guys attacked us not too far down the road from the bar. Scott and 'Ro came and brought the two of us here,"

"Ah, Magneto, the evil villain," I said with a laugh.

"Something like that,"

"I'm glad you didn't forget me, then," He didn't say anything; he just nodded his head. "Well, I better go clean myself up; I'm sure I look like a mess, I need to see if I can do something with my hair with this bandage on,"

Dr. Grey had replaced me gauze bandage with a smaller, more reasonable, Band-Aid like thing.

"What happened to your hair?"

"Oh," I said, reaching up and touching it. "I straightened it. Most of the guys at the bar liked straight hair better, again with the tip thing,"

"I like it better the other way," he said.

I smiled at him. "Thanks," I said, slightly blushing.

Why was I blushing? It was only Logan, the guy I used to joke around with, not someone who should make me _blush_ when he paid me a compliment, but there I was; standing in front of him, my face turning a lovely shade of pink.

"If need anything my room's right down here," he said, pointing down the hall to a door.

"Alright," I said.

"We eat dinner at seven, if you're hungry,"

"What time is it now?" I asked.

He looked at the watch on his wrist. "It's nearly five,"

"And where do you eat?"

"The dinin' room; just come and knock on my door and I'll take you down there,"

"Okay, thanks,"

I walked into my new room, watching Logan walk away down the hall to his own before I closed the door.

I walked around, exploring the room; it was the biggest room that I had ever been able to call my own. As I was looking through the wardrobe that Dr. Grey had hung my clothes in, I couldn't help but think about how much my life had changed in that one day. I thought I had been used to change at that point, but what had happened to me was a life altering experience and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I was slightly scared because it was a very unusual situation. Whenever someone would present me with the opportunity to live in their home I would have either known them for a while or had time to research them before making a final decision, but I had found myself thrown headfirst into the bizarre worlds of other mutants and having to adapt as fast as possible. Adapting is what had allowed me to survive, allowed me to live in different places with different people, and I felt confused as to why I felt so out of place there.

For a person who had at one point been considered 'emotionally retarded' by therapists, I was feeling quite emotional. All within less than twenty-four hours, I had seen Logan for the first time in six tears, attempted to me, and almost, killed. Moved into a strange house with even stranger people living in it, fired from and offered a new job that I knew nothing about, because a grown man who called himself 'Cyclops' suggested me based on my interaction with people that he had witnessed me around for three hours.

Was I supposed to be happy, sad, grateful, upset, full of rage, what? I didn't know, so I did just what my therapist had tried so hard to get me to stop: Push all of my emotions away to the back of my mind and try to remain as distant from the problem as possible. Coaxing myself back into a pattern of not playing a part until I saw the big picture, making sure that I knew the roles that everyone else played before getting involved.

I was scared because I didn't have a plan, which I always did, but for once in six years, I also felt safe to be there with Logan again, knowing that he would protect me if I needed him to, just like he used to.

But what struck me the most was that for the first time in my _life_ I was with other mutants that were very candid about their mutations, being as helpful and supportive of me as possible, and yet I felt the most out of place there with them, the ones who were just like me.


	7. Destiny Met

Disclaimer: I don't have any rights to be doing what I do with any of Marvel's characters. Keep your hands and feet inside at all times and please enjoy the story, thank you.

* * *

"Welcome Miss Rynolds to your first staff meeting," Professor Xavier said to me as I walked into his office where the meeting was being held.

It had been two weeks since I had first arrived, and after studying up on the job the Professor had offered me, I had agreed to take it. He wanted me to mostly go to foster homes and orphanages to talk to the kids there, since I had some experience with it myself. I was actually a little excited about it; I had never had a job outside of a bar so it was a completely new experience for me.

"Thank you," I said, sitting down in a chair beside Rouge, whom I had met briefly the day before when she and Bobby had come home from their honeymoon. I had been informed of her mutation earlier on in the week, before they had returned, and had to resist the urge to ask someone to explain how their relationship…worked, because I assumed it was far too personally, and, quite frankly, none of my business.

She _did_ sort of look like me, as Logan had said. We both had very pale skin, dark brown eyes and we were built roughly the same, with the exception that I was a few inches taller. She had dark brown, straight hair, and mine was blonde and curly, but I could see how Logan would have been reminded of me.

She sat, chewing on a piece of gum and scribbling in a notebook during the meeting, taking notes, distracting me from mine every time she would blow a small bubble and pop it.

About midway through, Logan was talking about the kids complaining to the other teachers when he would push them hard in his self-defense class, saying that the kids were too scared to talk to him about it.

"Aw, are they scared of the big, bad wolf?" Rouge said playfully.

I couldn't believe it; she was flitting with my Logan in front of not only me and the rest of the staff, but her new husband as well.

"_Wait…"_ I thought. _"Why did I just call him _my_ Logan? He's not mine…but more so than hers. I knew him before her and if it wasn't for my stupid father, she never would have even met him,"_

"Actually, wolverines aren't part of the wolf family, they're related to the badger family," I said. Everyone went quiet and when I looked up from my notes, they were all staring at me. "Am I the only one who watches Animal Planet?"

"Apparently," Rouge said, snapping her gum at me.

She didn't like me; she had known me for only a day and didn't like me based solely on our one meeting.

"Animal Planet," Logan snorted.

"Hey, I'm just happy to have cable, okay? Anything that doesn't involve the news is interesting to me right now, so don't get facetious because I'm culturing myself,"

"It's better than 'Oklahoma'," he retorted.

I blushed slightly as I was surprised that he had actually remembered that conversation, which had seemed like so long ago, and I couldn't help but smile a little.

"I like 'Oklahoma,'" I muttered quietly. He let out a small laugh and winked at me, making my blush an even deeper pink.

"Miss Rynolds, if you feel comfortable enough with your job, I would like for you to follow Mr. Drake as he goes to New York City tomorrow. There is a young girl living in an orphanage there and from what I can tell, is quite powerful and having a bit of a problem with the other children. The owners know that you will be coming but they do not know that she is a mutant," the Professor said.

"Yeah, I think that I would feel comfortable with doing that," I said. "What's her name?"

"Laura," he answered.

"How old is she?"

"Why does it matter?" Rouge asked.

"I just want to know a little bit about her before we go busting into her life and turning it around anymore than it already is. She needs someone who's going to go in and understand not only her situation but also what she's going through. Group homes aren't exactly the nicest places in the world, so if you're going to tell someone that you know that they're a mutant, you need to have enough information to tell them that they can have a better life somewhere else; here. You need to be able to relate to them,"

"How do you know?" she asked and I felt all seven of them watch me for my answer. Only Logan and the Professor knew about my past.

"Because I lived in foster care for a few months, then moved into a foster home for seven years and I've moved from home to home for the past six years. My mother was murdered, my father was in prison and my aunt gave me away because I was hurting her 'love life'. If some random person come into the group home that I was living in, wearing some stuffy suit, acting better than me, attempting to tell me that they knew that I was a mutant I would have stopped them right there and made them leave. It's a different situation than just allowing kids to come to school, they've had hard lives and they need to know that they're going to be understood and welcomed here. They need to know that everyone thinks that they're worth all of what they're being offered,"

"Which is why I felt you would do well in this job," Professor Xavier said to me.

"Alright," Rouge said, writing in her notebook. "How old _is_ she?"

"She is fourteen,"

"What can she do?" I asked.

"Her powers and not completely clear to me at the moment, but I believe they involve fire, not unlike Pyro,"

"Who's Pyro?" I asked.

"He was a student of mine named John, he attended the school while Bobby and Rouge were still students,"

"Where is he now?"

"He's one of Magneto's goons," Logan said.

I stifled a laugh, trying to be serious about the subject, but hearing anyone say 'goons', especially 'manly' Logan, was enough to make me crack up.

"Oh, what could he do?" I managed to say without so much as a smile.

I never felt stupid about asked questions, it never embarrassed me because I was doing it to learn something and for some reason, I had always been a very curious person. So it didn't bother me too badly when Rouge let out a heavy sigh, obviously bored with the conversation.

"He could manipulate fire, allowing it to grow and swell with his powers, and I believe that this is what Laura's powers are,"

I took some short hand notes before the Professor changed the subject, bringing up the topic of having more vegetarian food options for the kids, since there were quite a few vegetarians there. Logan said something sarcastic, amusing himself highly and managing to annoy Scott. The meeting only last about thirty more minutes and then we were all dismissed.

I gathered my things together, stuffing my notebook and pen into my bag haphazardly, trying to get out of there as quick as possible while Rouge was talking to Logan.

I stood up, slinging the bag onto my shoulder and heading for the door. However, in my haste I caught my foot on one of the legs of the chair next to mine, tripping over it and falling face first into the floor. As I was going down, I looked over and I swear that _she _was laughing at me.

"Are you alright?" Logan asked, coming over to my side and bending down beside me.

I pushed myself up from the floor, rolled over and sat up. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, doing my best to force a fake smile.

"Your chin's bleedin'," he said.

I reached up and felt the blood dripping from my chin. "I'll stop," I said, trying to deflect how bad the fall was.

He grabbed my arm and looked at my elbow where I had a nice, lovely, little raspberry from where I had tried to break my fall.

"You might need this checked out," he said.

"I'm a big girl, I think I can put my own Band-Aids on," I said, looking at him and smiling.

He smiled back. "Good to know," he said, standing, and then holding out his hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me up from the floor.

"Thanks," I said, straightening out my clothes, which had been twisted during the fall.

"I thought you would have learned to walk by now, kid," he said and I saw Rouge look a little upset behind him. I had heard him call her 'kid' when she got home and found it amusing that she was mad at him for called me the same name that he called her, even though he had called me by it first.

I smiled at him. "Shut up, I can't help it that I'm clumsy,"

"Maybe if you would watch where you're goin' instead of running outta' here like you got somewhere to be, you might not trip,"

"Maybe I _do_ have somewhere to be," I teased.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Like where?"

"Like…I'm going out with someone," I said. Though it wasn't the reason why I had rushed from the room, I was supposed to be going out that night.

"With who?"

"You don't know them,"

"Where did you meet them?"

"At work," Okay, so I was actually going out to eat with Leah and Kayti, but he didn't need to know that.

"Where are you goin'?"

"Out to eat. Why, are you jealous?"

"No," he said quickly.

I laughed. "Aw, Logan's jealous that I've got other friends besides him," He gave me a stern look from underneath his eyebrows. "You didn't use to be so serious, you know?"

"That must have been before you got friends," he said with a smirk.

"You are such a jerk," I said with a smirk of my own.

"Maybe, but I ain't jealous,"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, go and have fun, darlin'," he said, but he wasn't convincing me.

He was protective of me, even still. I thought that after that long he wouldn't be, but the look on his face was proof enough. He was worried about me. For the two weeks that I had been there, he had been keeping his eye on me, making sure that I didn't try to run away. He had showed me around the school until I had finally gotten the hang of it on my own, had helped me work on my truck in the school's garage, he pretty much didn't leave my side from the time I woke up until I went to bed, and when he did, he would watch my very closely. I guess old habits _do_ die-hard.

* * *

"So you're working at this boarding school and living there?" Kayti said that said as we were eating at a Mexican restaurant not too far from Tayrn's bar so that they could go straight over after we were done, to work.

"Yeah, it's actually really nice," I said.

"Are you allowed to teach, I thought you had to have a degree for that?" asked Leah.

"Well, I'm _not_ teaching, I'm interviewing the kids who had potential to go to the school there, but I could sub if they needed me to, you only need a high-school diploma for that,"

"So what about that guy?" Kayti asked, taking a bite of her food.

"What guy?"

"The one that came back in looking for you after you left,"

"Oh, Logan, what about him?"

"Are the two of you going out?"

I laughed. "No…oh my word no, ew, gross,"

"What do you mean 'ew, gross', he was totally hot!"

"Yeah, he's a very attractive man but I knew him when I was like, _fifteen_, he doesn't think of me like that, and I don't either, that would just be creepy,"

"Oh come on, if he wanted to go out with you, you would say 'No, you knew me when I was younger'? Are you serious?"

"First of all, Logan doesn't 'go out' with anyone, so if he were to say that he wanted to go out with me, then I would freak out because something would be wrong with him,"

"You are so hopeless," she said.

"Why is that?"

"Because it's completely obvious that you're in love with him,"

"I beg your pardon? I am _not_ in love with him; he's too…Logan,"

"So?"

"So? So he's a foul mouthed, arrogant, whiskey drinking, cocky, redneck Canadian jerk,"

"He still sounds better than your other boyfriends," Leah said.

"Maybe, but he's like-"

"A brother? Don't even," Kayti said, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"I was going to say second cousin twice removed, actually," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"You know that sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, right?" Leah said.

"But it's still considered humor," I pointed out.

"I just think that you need to keep an open mind about it, he may really be into you," Kayti told me.

"Yeah, I'll try to do that,"

"It really sucks that Tayrn fired you," Leach said, changing the subject.

"Yeah," I said.

"Why _did_ she fire you?" Kayti asked. The both stared at me, waiting for my answer.

"She didn't tell you?" I asked.

"No," answered Kayti.

"Oh, uh, some personal stuff, not a big deal, though,"

"Oh!" Leah said. "I just remembered; someone said that Josh is in the hospital!"

"What happened, I mean, why is he in there?" I asked, trying to act as if it were a surprise.

"I don't know really, his friend Daniel came in talking about it, saying something about him falling down the stairs, or something? I don't know, but anyway, he's got like, six cracked ribs, both of his legs are broken and he's fractured his pelvis, I think,"

Fell down the stairs, ha. He tried to kill me and was introduced to Wolverine who, from the sound of it, gave him a fairly good beating. At least good enough not to admit that some He-Man had done it after he knocked me out.

I tried to hide my smile buy I couldn't.

"You are so sadistic," Kayti said.

"Hey, excuse me if I pause to enjoy someone else's bad karma for a second, but I think I lived with him for long enough to deserve a moment at his expense,"

"Weren't you talking about getting married?" Leah asked.

"_He_ was talking about getting married. I'm twenty-two, why would I want to get married right now. I don't want to merry someone just because they're talking about it,"

"But I thought you guys were so good together," she said.

"Things change,"

* * *

The next day I took my time to carefully pick out what I was going to wear to meet Laura, the girl the Professor wanted Bobby and me to interview. I decided on my long sleeved blue shirt, because blue is a calming color and makes the person you're meeting feel relaxed. So, I went with it, a pair of blue jeans and these amazing pair of blue, pointy-toed flats that I had gotten in New York City from a street vender when I had gone shopping for work clothes with Kayti and Leah a few months before. I wasn't the pointy-toed type usually, but they were ten dollars, in my size, and the prettiest color blue I had ever seen.

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail because I had read somewhere that when your hair is pulled back away from your face that more people are likely to trust you, which is what I really needed.

As I road with Bobby he told me that I would be the one talking to her. I kept going over my mental checklist of what I needed to do; smile, shake hands with a good grip and be polite. People make up their minds about whether they're going to like you or not within the first three seconds of meeting you, and for the most part, it never changes. I needed to try to relate, without talking too much about myself or being falsely and over the top nice. She needed to see that I was young, too, but most importantly, I needed to try to remember to casually drop in the word 'because' as much as I could while making my point. I had read a study somewhere that said the word 'because' had a lot of power behind it. The study showed that while using it in a sentence ninety percent of people were more likely to do what you were asking them to do, because it made it sound valid. After reading it, I once asked a woman in a very long bathroom line if I could go in front of her 'because I have to go _really_ bad,' it worked.

I was a little bit nervous when we first got there, I didn't want to screw up my first day on the job. We didn't have to wait too long before a woman who worked there showed me to a small room that had a classroom setting. There was a young girl sitting at one of the desks by herself and I realized that my life, even at its worst, was never as bad as hers was. Professor Xavier had given me a file on her that morning, so that I could read up on her. Both of her parents had been lawyers, a very well of and rich family. She had attended an all girls private school, which she attended with the children of her parent's co-workers. She was on the swim-team, played tennis and road in competitive horse back riding. It, apparently, all seemed very family portrait-esque, and everyone assumed that they were one big happy family. That is until the day when the man whom her mother was having an affair with killed them both as he was robbing their house while he thought they were away on vacation. After he killed them, he took Laura and sold her to another man in exchange for drug money. There were a series of me selling her, one to the next until the eighth man attempted to sell her to an undercover cop. From there she was sent to the orphanage at the age of eleven, where she wasn't allowed to be adopted until she finished a twelve-month long therapy course. However, by that time that she had finished, she was past the typical age of adoption and had been there for three years.

She was small, unusually pale, had strawberry blonde hair that was long and straight. The woman that had taken me to the room introduced me to her.

"Laura, this is Miss Rynolds, she's from a school in Westchester and would like to talk to you,"

She didn't say anything; she just looked up at me with her bright blue eyes that looked so empty and hopeless. Suddenly it hit me that I wasn't doing a _job_; I was dealing with actual kids and not all of the studies that I had read about human behavior growing up counted, because they weren't normal people. They were disturbed, destroyed, adolescent lives, who also happened to be mutants.

I stood there, waiting for one of them to say something else. Tick, tick, tick. My three seconds were up and she had gotten her first impression of me.

"Alright, thank you," I said with a smile as she walked away. She looked back and gave me a supportive smile before walking out and closing the door behind her.

"Hi, I'm Chloe, it's nice to meet you," I said, reaching out my hand to shake hers, but she just continued to look at me. There went my strong handshake; at least I was being polite, though. "Do you mind if I sit?" I asked. She didn't answer so I sat anyway. "Look, I know that this is hard for you, but I'm not a therapist, I'm not a social worker, I'm not a lawyer, I'm just here to talk to you, but if you don't want to talk then just tell me and I'll leave, but I think I've got something that you might want to hear,"

She looked at me, blinking her big eyes. "What?"

I took a deep breath and let it out. "I work at a school owned by a friend of mine named Professor Charles Xavier. It's a school for the gifted and he's heard about you and wants you to give a very good consideration to living and studying there,"

"I'm not gifted," she deadpanned. "So how could he have heard about me?"

"But you _are_ gifted. You have a very strong gift, one that you might be slight afraid for other people to know about,"

She shot me a look. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Are you sure?"

"Why would he want someone like _me_ at his school?"

"I told you; it's a school for the gifted, just like you,"

"How does he know about me, no one knows,"

"He is gifted as well. That's why he wants to reach out to as many kids as he can,"

"Why would he care, though?"

"Because he understands what you're going through," I said, curing myself for it as soon as the words left my mouth. I didn't want to say that simply because it wasn't very true. He understood the mutant part, and I may have understood some of what she was going through, but neither of us, nor any of the teachers, had gone through what she had.

"That's what everyone says, prove it,"

"I can't prove it for him, but I can for me,"

"How?"

"By the time I was your age my mother had been killed and I was discovering…my gift," I said, feeling cheesy. "Alright, look, I'm not going to sit here and try to compare my life with yours, I'm sure that they've both suck in their own ways, but this conversation is about giving you some control over you life. It's about what you're going to do with the situations you've been handed, because now it's time to start dealing with it. He wants you to come live at his school because if he or I don't understand you, another student will. This school is full of opportunities for you to build back what you've lost over these past unfortunate years of your life. It's sad that you've had to go through so much at such a young age; you've gone through more than anyone ever should and you're just fourteen. But he wants to help, I want to help, the other teachers want to help, because no matter what you've gone through we've all got something in common,"

"What?"

I looked at her, leaned in a little closer and dropped my voice. "Because we all know what it's like to be a mutant and trying to hide it from the rest of the world, feeling like an outcast by the simple fact that we're different from everyone. Like it's a sin not to be just like the all of the other people around us and feeling like there's something wrong with us because we have to keep a part of who we are hidden from anyone, because we don't know what'll happen if we tell them. We don't know whom we can trust, so we don't, and it creates something inside of us that we hate, so we start to hate ourselves and we become reclusive and scared. If you chose to go to the school I promise that you will not have to hide anymore, you don't have to be scared about people finding out about your secret, and I have a friend who will teach you personally how to defend yourself so that you won't have to worry about anything else happening to you. You'll live there in a dorm room, which will be less crowded than it is here. You'll go to classes' right there with the other students and you can learn to use your powers and see it as a gift instead of a curse. What has happened to you is terrible, what those people took away from you is something that you can't get back, and I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you can, but you've let them steal your life, you've let other people decide how you live, all for far too long. You don't have to go to school there, but _you_ get the chance to decide, _you_ have the final decision, it's what _you_ want," I said, leaning back in my chair and letting her absorb what I had told her.

"If I don't live here, then how could anyone adopt me?"

"You'll sill be up for adoption and Professor Xavier will set up days for you to visit and interview anyone that shows an interest in you,"

"I can't pay for it,"

"You don't have to," I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out a brochure for the school. It was the one that the Professor gave to the parents who assumed that it was just a preparatory school. "Here, you can look at this, it should tell you about all of the classes and extra curricular activities they have there,"

She took it and flipped through it, pausing to read something that caught her eye every now and then. "You have horses?"

I smiled at her. "I thought you might like that. Yes we do, there's twenty of them and I'm not sure what days are set aside for riding, but it's quite often,"

"You work there but you don't know the schedule?" she asked, looking over at me from the brochure.

"I'm kind of new myself," I said.

She didn't say anything, but I knew she was thinking very hard about it. "Did you tell anyone else…about me?"

"No, the only people where who know are you, my friend who works with me who's here, and me. But he's not going to tell anyone, and neither am I," I told her. "Look, you don't have to make up your mind about this right now, it's a big decision to make so you can take your time with it and do what you want to do and think is best for you. There's a number to the school there but I'm going to give you my cell phone number so that when you decide you can call and tell me, and then I'll tell the Professor and you can come to live with us. Or, if you ever just want to talk to anyone about anything, you can call me, no matter what time it is,"

She looked at me, fighting back tears and losing. "I can't pay him back for it, though,"

Hearing her say the same words that I had uttered only days before suddenly struck me as odd. He didn't _want_ anything; couldn't she see that? How had _I _not seen it? Looking at her, wanting help and finally seeing a glimmer of hope with only a few of her own obstacles in the way, made me wonder how I had found myself dropped into a job that I had never even thought of before could be so perfect for me. Helping other people was cathartic for me and I couldn't help but sharing it with her and I began to cry as well.

"He doesn't want you to pay him back; you will never own him anything. He wants to give you something that you should have had all along; security, and he didn't send me here from Westchester to tell you that you have to pay a price for being different, because you don't. Everything from the school will be of no cost to you, not because he pities you, I know that that's no what you want, he's giving it to you because you've earned it and deserve it,"

"When _do_ I have to give you my answer?"

"Whenever you want and feel ready,"

She shook her head. "Okay,"

I wiped away the tears that I had unprofessionally let flee my eyes. I took the notepad from my bag and wrote down my name and cell phone number. "I'm going to leave and let you think about this, but you can call me whenever you want, or if you ever need anything," I said, handing her the paper and standing from my seat. "It was nice to meet you and I hope that whatever you chose works out for you, and I truly mean that,"

She looked up at me and her eyes were no longer empty and hopeless, they were full of hope and I had helped to do it. Why had it taken me so long to actually grasp that I wanted to do that job? I should have jumped on it as soon as Xavier offered it to me. I had never done anything so fulfilling in my life and I love it. Not because it made me feel better, but because I saw a small bit of myself in her and if someone had given me hope like the Professor had given her when I was her age, I would have been grateful beyond belief. Then I realized, he was giving me the same hope as her, I had just had a hard time distinguishing between hope and pity. He didn't pity me; none of them did, and with my newfound revelation I was able to interact with the rest of the staff without worrying what the thought about me.


	8. One Shot Chance

Disclaimer: Same ol', same ol', I don't own anything. Please enjoy this chapter, though, it gave me a headache to type up.

* * *

"You weren't at dinner," Logan said, pulling out the chair beside me and sitting down.

It had been five days since my visit with Laura and she hadn't called the school or my cell phone. I hadn't bee on another interview since then, so I spent most of my time in the library, trying to keep my mind off of whether I could have done anything different. Therefore, I was sitting, alone, in the library that night, not feeling hungry enough to pull myself away from a book about dreams, to which, admittedly, I wasn't paying much attention.

"Well done, Sherlock," I said sarcastically.

"You can't stay in here until she calls," he said.

"Why not?"

"Get dressed, we're goin' out,"

I looked up at him from my book. "Where?"

"It doesn't matter, just go,"

"Yes, it does matter; what if I don't want to go?"

"That's why you don't have a choice, darlin'," he said to me with his cocky smirk.

"Logan, I don't feel like playing games right now,"

"I'm not playin' games,"

"Can't you just let me sulk for a little bit?"

"No,"

"Why?"

"'Cause you've been in here for nearly a week,"

"It's only been four days," I corrected.

He blinked at me in his condescending way that he did. "Whatever, you're not stayin' in here any longer. This is the second night you've missed dinner and yesterday you didn't leave here for lunch,"

"Well, thank you for keeping up with me but I do believe that as of age eighteen I've been an adult and if I want to sit in a library all day reading, then I am by all means entitled to do so,"

"You're not reading," he said.

I held up the book that I had opened in front of me and showed it to him. "What am I doing with this book, then?"

"You've not been reading it for the past twenty minutes,"

"How would you know?"

"Because I've been watching you,"

"I really don't like that you can sneak around so quietly, it's a little bit creepy,"

"I don't care, go get dressed,"

"I _am_ dressed,"

"Then get up, we're leavin'," he said, standing.

"I don't feel like going anywhere," I protested, but it was in vain, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me from my chair. I was momentarily upset by the fact that he was dragging me from my sad attempt to drown out my inner dialog telling me that I had pushed too hard or that I hadn't done enough, when I realized how nice his hand felt holding mine. I had to fight back sudden thoughts of wanting him to keep holding it. I couldn't think of him like_ that_, he was too close to the only family that I had to have my thoughts be converted to some warped, foax romantic type of thinking. I tried to chase out the thoughts and was surprised to find that it was much hard than it should have been.

* * *

"Okay, so now that you've kidnapped me and brought me to a bar, what are we going to do, because I hope you know that I don't drink?" I said as we were sitting in the parking lot of a bar that was around twenty-five minutes away from the school.

"We're not here to drink," he said.

"Well, I don't feel like trailing after your harem either. The last thing I need is to see a tall, skinny, blonde girl buying you drinks and blowing in your ear,"

"The only tall, skinny, blonde girl who's going to be with me is you," he said. I had never really thought of myself as that type before, even though I guess I rather was. I didn't consider myself skinny, and since I had always just associated it with _pretty_, tall, skinny blondes, I just assumed that no one else categorized me as the stereotype as well. "Have you ever played pool?"

"No,"

"You're gonna' learn how,"

I followed close behind him as we walked into the relatively un-crowed bar. We found an empty table and he handed me a pool stick as he grabbed one for himself.

"Okay, how does this work?"

It took him only a few minutes to explain the basic rules before we started playing.

"I got one in," I smiled after I hit one of the solid color balls into a side pocket.

"That's a scratch," he said.

"What's a scratch?"

"You're tryin' to hit the ones with the stripes because they're yours. You hit one of mine in, so the points mine,"

"Why is it yours, _I_ hit it in?" I argued.

"Because it's my ball,"

"I think that you're making up rules," I said, standing back to let him shoot.

"If you keep shooting like that, I won't have to," he smirked. I chewed on my lip as I watched him. He looked over at me. "Come here and I'll show you how you're supposed to do it,"

I walked over to him and put my pool stick up on the table. "Alright, what am I doing wrong?" I asked, lining up my aim with the cue ball.

He leaned in behind me and moved my hands to where they needed to be. "Use your fingers to rest the end of the stick on, so you keep it off the table. Then line it up with the center of the ball, pull it back and then-" he said, helping me to slide it forward, knocking the white ball which his a green one, knocking into a yellow one and sending them into one of the corner pockets.

"That's not too hard," I said, slightly blushing by our position, and yet it felt nice to have him standing there, his arms sort of wrapped around mine, almost holding me.

"_Wait, no, stop it! It's Logan, what are you doing? He's teaching you how to play pool, why can't you just keep your mind on the game?"_ I thought to myself.

"It's still my turn," he said huskily into my ear.

I laughed. "Sorry, I'll move then," I said, slipping out from under his arms, tucking the hair around my face behind my ears.

He shot a few more before finally missing and letting me go.

"Who did you go out on a date with last week?" he asked me as I was thinking about which shot I should try to line up.

"I didn't, I just went out to eat with the girls that I used to work with."

"Why did you say that you were going out on a date, then?" he asked, puffing on his cigar.

"Ah, but I didn't. I told you that I was going out, you just assumed it was a date," I said, shooting and hitting one of the solid billiards. "Crap,"

"Another scratch,"

"Thank you, I see that,"

We switched spots and he took his turn, nearly winning in his last shot, which sent two more billiards into one of the side pockets.

"How do you imitate hamburger meat?" I asked him as he was lining up another shot.

"What?" he asked, looking at me confused, not sure of what I said.

"It's a joke; how do you imitate hamburger meat?"

He looked at me with his intense stare. "I don't know," he said around his cigar.

"Hi, I'm hamburger meat," I said with a smile.

He smiled at me and shook his head. "That's just swell darlin', you're a real riot,"

"Yeah, you make fun of me now, but tomorrow you'll be telling it to everyone," I teased.

"Oh yeah, Chuck'll get a kick out of that one," he said sarcastically.

"I bet he would be a bad person to tell jokes to, he would know all of the punch lines before you got to the joke,"

"I wouldn't know, I've never tried to tell him one,"

"I would think that you're pretty bad at telling jokes, he he's probably better off that way,"

"You just told me the worst joke I've ever heard and you think that _I_ would be bad at telling them?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at me.

"It may have been a bad joke, but I told it so well, you have to admit that much at least," I said as he shot the last ball into one of the corner pockets, winning the game.

"I win," he said to me with a smirk.

"You cheated,"

"How?"

"Because I shot two of them for you while you were showing me how to shoot, that shouldn't count,"

"You didn't complain about it at the time," he said.

"_That's because I couldn't think with you right behind me, making me blush and getting me embarrassed,"_ I thought.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah,"

"Let's go get something,"

We ended up playing two more games of pool before leaving to go to a small mom-and-pop type hamburger place called Tubbies. I ordered one of the half pound, chili-cheese burgers and French fries and he ordered hot wings. When we sat down, he let me taste one of them without realizing _how_ hot it was going to be, I took a big bite, burning my mouth.

"Why didn't you warn me?" I asked, sipping down my Coke as fast as I could.

He just shook his head. "I thought you were smart enough to know what 'hot' means without havin' to tell you,"

"No, there's a difference between hot and third degree burns inside your mouth. How can you eat those things?"

"They don't bother me," he said as my cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered. It was Laura; she had decided to live at the school. "That's fantastic, I'll talk to Professor Xavier tonight and will see if we can come get you by tomorrow," I said after she told me the news. Apparently the reason it had take her so long to call back was that one of the other girls had taken her backpack which had had both numbers in it. Sure enough, the next day Storm went to pick her up.

I was sent on another interview later that week, and that's how it went for the next couple of months. Bobby, Rouge and I went, usually, one interview a week each. I learned that most of the kids that I talked to weren't quite as easy to convince that the Professor didn't want something from them, and that they would be safe at the school. However, when I_ could_ talk them into joining us at the school and I got to see how much they changed when around the other students; it was the biggest reward anyone could have given me.

* * *

I heard a knock on my door from where I was lying in my bed and called out for them to come in.

"How you feelin'?" Logan asked, walking into my room.

"Like I'm on my deathbed," I said, giving a glance in his direction. "You look awfully spiffy,"

It was late November and I was sick with what Dr. Grey had diagnosed as monno, but I felt like it was much worse than just simple, boring monno. I was aching all over and felt like I was going to die.

"Thanks," he said, plopping down in the chair next to my bed.

Jean and Scott were celebrating their forth-wedding anniversary with a party. I was, unfortunately, too sick to even go downstairs and see everyone, so I was locked in my room, by myself, save Logan who had come in looking extremely good looking in his blue jeans and a black dress shirt.

I coughed and sat up against my headboard so that I could look at him. "Do these anniversary things not bother you anymore?" I asked.

"No," he said. I had become aware that he had had a crush on Dr. Grey, lasting years, before I had gotten there. The he had dated Ororo off and on for a while, again, all before I had arrived.

"That's good," I said.

"So, he said, smirking at me. "Jean says you got monno. I could be wrong darlin', but I hear that's the kissin' disease. So, who've you been kissin'?"

"Since when is who I kiss any of your business?"

He just kept smirking at me. "Well if I ever wanted to kiss you I should know if I'm gonna' get sick,"

"You are such a cocky little jerk," I coughed out with a smile. "I caught it from Jason, and since I doubt that you're going to be kissing him and that kissing me is all hypothetical, I don't think you have to worry about catching anything. Besides, I thought you couldn't get sick?"

He quirked an eyebrow at me, creating lines on his forehead. "Who says it's hypothetical?"

"I do,"

"So who's Jason?"

"Oh, you haven't been stalking me on my dates?" I asked sarcastically.

"Maybe, who is he?"

"He's just a guy I met,"

"Where?"

"He works at the coffee shop part of the book store downtown,"

"How old is he?"

"Thirty,"

"Isn't that too old for you?"

"No,"

"I gotta' go," he said, standing.

"You're already twenty-minutes late, why are you rushing? You can stay here with me while I zone out from Bynadryl," I laughed.

"I'm gonna' go and eat so I can leave,"

"Yes, while I'm drinking my dinner you'll be-"

"Stuck in this stupid outfit havin' to make nice with Jean and Scooter's families,"

"But still eating good food,"

"I'll sneak you something back,"

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

"Just don't tell Jean,"

"Oh yeah, because she won't find out on her own," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Get some sleep, you look terrible," he said, turning to smirk at me from my doorway.

"If I didn't agree with you so much I just might be offended by that,"

He just smiled at me shortly before leaving and closing the door behind him. It didn't take too long for my medicine to catch up with me and I was falling asleep.

* * *

I woke up later that night and looked at my watch; it was eleven forty-five, time to take more medication. I sat up and when I looked over, I saw Logan in my chair.

"Ah!" I yelped, not expecting to see him sitting there. "You scared me!"

"Sorry,"

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was just makin' sure you're alright,"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said. "How was the party?"

He just grunted. "Jean caught me with your food and wouldn't let me bring it to you; she said that you needed to eat that soup crap,"

"Thanks for trying," I said, ruffling my hand through my hair. "Would you have me that pill bottle?" I asked, pointing to the bottle of penicillin that Dr. Grey had given me, to take the swelling in my throat down, which had swollen to what they called 'kissing tonsils', where my tonsils were touching my uvula, or 'the little punching bag thing at the back of your throat', as she had explained it to me.

He handed it to me and I popped it open, pouring out five pills into the palm of my hand, dropping them into my mouth and swallowing them as fast as possible, chasing them down with the water in the glass beside my bed. I was supposed to take them for a week; seven the first day, six the second, five the third, so on and so on. They were the single most disgusting things that I had ever tasted, leaving a strong bitter taste in my mouth that I couldn't get out for such a long time, that the after-taste itself almost made me sick enough to not want to take them. _Almost_, as the pain of my throat was killing me.

"Thank you," I said, settling back down in my bed.

"Are you feelin' any better?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll be able to get up and actually _do_ something tomorrow," I said while yawning. "Are you not tired?"

"No," he said, running his hand through the back of his hair.

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yeah,"

"You _can_ go to your room if you want, I'll probably be back to sleep in just a few minutes,"

"I thought you had to talk to get sleepy?" he asked.

I gave a weak laugh that came out with a cough. "I can't believe I told you that…I can't believe you actually _remembered _that, wow, that was a long time ago,"

"Yeah,"

"Did I ever tell you how much fun I had that day?"

"We just drove for fourteen hours, how did you have fun?"

"Maybe it's the meds talking her, but I had fun just hanging out with you, back before you got all teachery and started hanging out with other adults that you weren't beating the crap out of or accepting drinks that they were buying you," I laughed, then I was hit with a sudden memory. "You know, I was going to ask if I could live with you when you came back, I guess I wasn't meant to,"

"You are now," he said and I looked over at him.

"Yeah…I guess so," I said, letting out a deep sigh. "You really…affected me,"

"How?"

"Up until I came here you were the only person who knew that I was a mutant, and there was something about the way that you knew something about me that no one else ever knew that always kept you in my mind. When you left, I uh…I missed having someone to talk to. I felt for some reason you actually gave a care about what I had to say, when no one else had given me that before, it stayed with me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"About what,"

"Leavin' you,"

"Don't be,"

"I know, but I shouldn't have left you there by yourself, I should have stayed with you,"

"Do you believe that things happen for a reason?"

"I don't know,"

"Well, when I was growing up my mother always told me that they did, but when she did I couldn't believe that there could be a reason for her leaving me by myself, and then even thought Tom and Viv took care of me, I missed having someone who…loved me, I guess. So when I met you, I don't know; I felt as if you were kind of like my family, just the two of us. So when you left and I didn't get to tell you goodbye properly I was more that just a little upset. I felt like I was being punished for something that I had done, or what my father had done, just something that wouldn't let me have a family. I felt like that for a long time, then I saw you that night at the bar and I wondered if I was stupid to think that you remembered me, or what's more, cared about me. Then you guys brought me here and the Professor gave me my job and I get to do something that not only makes me happy, but actually helps other people. I don't know if how my life has gone is so that I could understand and help other kids, but it led me here and no matter how bad it was I am finally happy. If you hadn't left the way you did then you wouldn't have ended up here, I probably never would have seen you again and wouldn't have ever made it here either. I _was_ a little mad at you for not coming back for me, until I found out why and over these past few months I've realized that my mother was right; things _do_ happen for a reason. I was meant to meet you when I was younger so that when things were going wrong and I couldn't control what was happening I could have someone to think about. When I was lonely and scared and by myself, I thought about you and everything would seem a little bit better. I knew that no matter what happened to me, that while I knew you, you cared about me, even thought you never said it. Those few months that I knew you made me so happy. It doesn't matter what happened, don't feel guilty for leaving me somewhere because you couldn't help it, everything that has happened between then and now has made me see how my experiences have made me, me. You helped make me who I am, and I like who I am, so don't apologize for that," I said.

He looked eerily handsome soaked in the moonlight spilling in from the window beside my bed. His eyes sparkled, the green and brown doing their hazel justice, causing my breath to momentary catch in my chest. The lines of his jaw looked more pronounced as the shadows cast themselves on his strong bone structure. His hair looked wilder than usual, falling down, sweeping across his forehead. The top few buttons of his dress shirt had been undone and the front half had been partially un-tucked from his blue jeans.

He was slouching in the chair, resting the side of his face against his thumb and index finger of his right hand. His mouth was cinched, causing his lips to look slightly pursed, until he let out a long breath and then taking another in, causing his chest to rise and fall with a perfect rhythm that I subconsciously found myself mocking with my own breathing.

I watched him as his eyesight shifted, looking out my window, up at the full moon the framed itself in my window like a bright, iridescent photo. I cocked my head to its side, looking at the same moon as he. I wanted to see what he was seeing, hear what he was thinking, feel what he was feeling. I wanted to know everything about him, but as the sound of silence stretched itself out further, I couldn't force myself to break it, couldn't find the words to make a valid enough question to ask that would be worth ending what we were sharing together.

The night was cool and through my window, we could see the leaves on the tree, blowing in the soft wing, causing a small rustling sound, the only one I could hear besides our breathing going in and out together.

I fought to keep my eyes open, to continue watching the ever still moon, to hear his breathing, but I couldn't. My eyes slid closed and I found myself drifting into sleep. Before giving in completely, I felt the covers being pulled up around me, as Logan tucked me in gently. I then felt him pick up my hand and softly kiss it, causing me to shiver from where I laid in my bed. He lay it back down at my side, and then I heard him walk to my door and leave my room.

I fell asleep knowing that my Wolverine hadn't ever left me, that he had always been right there in my thoughts and I in his, never more than a simple flicker of memory away from the forethought of our minds. Though the image of him standing barebacked in a shadowcasted wire cage, drinking from a bottle of whiskey had never left me, my opinion of him had shifted from a father-esque figure and friend to someone that I actually loved in more than a one dimensional way. It was then, as sick sleep washed over me, I found myself wondering, if quite possibly, my thoughts and feeling had crossed some increasingly blurred borderline from loving him, to perhaps, _being _in love with him.


	9. Hello Darlin', Goodbye

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights toanything Marvelor the song that I use in this chapter. I am but a 17 year old girl, if you sue...I just hope you don't, please:::Bats Eyelashes: Oh, as for the 'Foghorn Leghorn' thing towards the end of the chapter, I have to give credit to my mother as she does that when we play cards. And while we're giving credit, the joke in the last(?) chapter, my sister came up with it. Being sleepy and pregnant does weird things to your mind... Oh, right, the story! Keep reading and please enjoy!

* * *

Two days later, I was feeling better enough to join everyone for our monthly staff meeting. I sat down in one of the armchairs in a corner off by myself, sipping a cup of hot green tea with honey and a lemon-honey cough drop dissolving at the bottom. All of the other staff was seated across the room from me, a little nervous about getting sick.

I watched the door to Professor Xavier's office swing open as Logan walked in. He looked over the room and strode over to where I was seated. I didn't look straight at him, giving him only a casual smile as he pulled the armchair that was a few feet away from mine, closer to me.

We hadn't spoke since I had poured out my thought about him in a semi-drug-induced state. I hadn't remembered everything that I said, I just remembered when I woke up I had a small crush on him.

"Any better?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little bit," I said quietly, pulling my sweater closer to me and taking a sip of my tea.

"Is that stuff not makin' you sick to smell?" he asked, nodding to my cup.

"No, the only time I _can_ smell is when I'm drinking it, but it's not as strong to me as it is you. You don't have to sit so close if it's making you sick,"

"I'm fine," he said just as Professor Xavier started the meeting.

He spoke for nearly an hour about the classes, Christmas vacation and the staff Christmas party. Apparently, the older teenagers would watch over the kids that were staying there at the school for the holidays so that the teachers could go out for one night. Then he brought up the subject of Secret Santa. He wrote down everyone's names, put them into Scott's baseball cap and let everyone draw out a name, as he and Jean went last, since they had an unfair advantage.

Scott walked over to me, holding up the hat so that I couldn't see, but could just reach into it. I pulled out a slip of paper, unfolded it and tried to bite back my distaste as I read the name 'Marie' written in front of me.

"Who'd you get?" Logan whispered to me from his chair.

"Rouge, you?"

"'Ro," he answered quickly.

"Care to trade?" I asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "That's against the rules, darlin',"

"Oh, like you never break the rules," I snuffed, sticking the small slip of paper into my sweater pocked and taking another sip of my tea, drinking the last of it.

"I'm tryin' to be on good behavior," he said with a wink.

"Jerk," I grunted.

"Hey, I'm the only one who'll even sit next to you while you're sick, you better be nice to me,"

"I _am_ being nice to you, _you're_ the one who's being mean," I retorted as the Professor started speaking again.

He explained the few rules of the game. We were to give the gifts to the names of the people that we had drawn, but were not allowed to tell them who we were until we gave them their last gift. We weren't allowed to exchange named (blah), spend more than one hundred dollars on _all_ of the gifts and we had to buy at least three gifts, one for every week until Christmas.

Looked around the room, watching everyone's thoughtful faces as they all went to work, thinking of ideas for presents. I tried to think of something for Rouge, but what in the world was_ I_ supposed to get _her_? Even though we didn't quite try to outdo each other as much as we had to begin with, we still didn't get alone very well. I didn't know anything that she would want, but I had to think of something, the first week of December was only a few days away.

* * *

I woke up late on the last day of the first week in December. I had already given Rouge her first present, so I wasn't worried about anything. I had bought her a beautiful pair of vintage, off white opera gloves that I had considered keeping for myself because they were so pretty, but I had given in and left them outside of her door on Tuesday, earlier that week. I had gone ahead and bought her three, vintage, silk scarves and a beautiful set of earrings with a matching necklace.

I climbed out of bed, rushed through a quick shower and then pulled on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and wrapped up in a sweater. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and slipped on a pair of house shoes.

I was hungry, so I was hurrying, trying to get downstairs for breakfast. I opened my door and nearly stepped on the present that was sitting in front of it. I looked around, but there was no one there. I picked up the present, went to my bed, sat down and ripped the paper away to reveal a gift package of Lime Coconut Bath and Bodyworks perfume, lotion and bubble bath. I was going to enjoy that gift; it was my favorite scent.

"_Perfume," _I thought._ "So it must be a woman; Jean, Ororo or Rouge,"_

I spritzed some of the perfume on me before heading down for breakfast. I took the elevator to the first floor, went down the hallway and entered the dining room. I walked to the staff table where no one else was sitting, and sat down.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal, and just as I was our milk over it, I felt a hand brush against my neck and I swear, if I had been standing, my knees would have given out on me.

"Good morning, Logan," I managed to choke out as he sat down across from me.

"Morin' darlin'," he said, pilling a stack of six pancakes onto his plate, then pausing he sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"

"What does it smell like?"

"Coconut…and limes,"

I gave a small laugh. "That's me, my first Secret Santa gift was perfume," I said, blushing slightly. To admit something right now; no man had ever mad me blush, _ever_, but it seemed as if every time he spoke to me, I did. "When I was younger, I used to call this cereal 'dog food cereal'," I said to Logan, pointing to my Cracklin Oat Bran, though I'm not sure why.

He looked up at me from his plate. "Why?" he asked, blinking condescendingly.

"Because it looks like dog food," I said simply.

There was something about him that made me want to tell him my most random thoughts, anything that just popped into my head, no matter how crazy or odd it was.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Fair enough," he said. We sat quietly for a few minutes. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"I'm not entirely sure, why?"

"I was gonna' go shot some pool, if you wanted to come?"

"Oh, well, Jason and I were supposed to be doing something tonight, but he was supposed to call me back yesterday and make sure that I wasn't busy," I said, biting my lip as I thought about what I should do. I liked Jason, he was a really nice guy, funny, cute but he wasn't Logan. I felt slightly guilty about it, but I couldn't deny the fact that my crush on Logan had grown. I craved more time with him; I longed to see him and would often sneak outside during his classes to watch him while he taught. But my crush on Logan was not Jason's fault, so I couldn't hurt him over it. "No, I better not. I'm sure there's a reason why he didn't call, so I'll just stay here in case he does,"

"You don't have to wait around on him,"

"I know, but I like him, so I don't mind all that much,"

"You like him?"

"Yeah, he's…sweet,"

"Sweet?" he repeated.

"Yes, do you know what 'sweet' means? He's good to me, I figure if nothing else, that's at least respectable,"

"Bein' good to you ain't respectable, it's a given,"

"Don't forget that I've seen you with woman, Logan, were you good to them, since it was a given?"

"That's been a long time ago and those women weren't you,"

"That's right, I'm better than those women, aren't I?" I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"You are," he said.

I looked up at him from my bowl, where I was pushing around the cereal that was left, with my spoon. "How am I any better than them?"

"They were just a bunch of whores,"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with that at the time,"

"I still don't, but _you're_ not a whore,"

The conversation had suddenly turned a corner, becoming slightly more awkward the longer it trudged on. The blush that I had felt in my cheeks earlier had returned, spreading like a flame back across my cheeks and up to my ears, which felt like were on fire as I could hear the blood pounding in them.

I looked away from him, biting the edge of my lip as I thought, one of my bad habits. I suddenly realized that while I had been engrossed in our conversation, everyone else had left the dining room and it was just Logan and me.

"What am I, then?" I asked, looking back at him.

Truth was; I _wasn't_ a whore, I knew it and so did he. I had never done anything that would even allow me to be related to the name, but that wasn't what was playing though my mind at that time, I was waiting patiently to hear what he thought about me.

"You're smarter than them, you're stronger, you're more beautiful, you're not some stupid woman who sleeps around with men from bars because you're better than that, you're _my_ darlin',"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words were caught in my throat. _His_ darlin', I was _his_. He said it and I heard it. He thought I was smart and strong. _He_ thought that _I_ was beautiful.

I tried to fight it back, but I couldn't, and a tear escaped my tightly closed eyes. I opened them to look up at Logan and it felt like a dam broke, sending a flood of tears streaming down my face. I was torn between staying there and crying from the love he was showing me, or melting into a pool of pure giddiness.

"Do you mean that?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I mean it,"

I smiled, giving out a small laugh through my tears. "Thank you," I said.

He didn't try to comfort me, he didn't try to keep me from crying, and I didn't want him to. I wanted to be allowed to feel the overwhelming joy from belonging to someone, from belonging to Logan. To know that he had more love for me than ever I did for myself at that point. I was filled with so many emotions and I didn't have a clue about what I was going to do with myself, so I sat there, crying. Which, in itself, would have been a big deal with my therapist years before, but to be crying because I was_ happy_ was more than I knew how to handle. To be happy, to be loved: to be happy that I _was_ loved, it was a revelation that destroyed my world and brought it back again. It shook my world, however cheesy and clichéd it sounded. I had never had anyone love me and profess it as he did since my mother had died. I was excited to have found someone who loved me and so terrified that I would lose it.

* * *

Jason had called me that afternoon and we went to see a movie together that night. After the movie, however, we went out to eat. I talked him into going to some small barbeque place instead of a stuffy, nicer restaurant. I didn't want to have to worry about getting food on my hands or being quiet.

While we were eating and talking, some older man went to the jukebox, selected a few songs, went and sat back down in his booth by himself. The first two songs were some old country songs that I didn't know too well, but were extremely sad. The first one was a song called 'He Stopped Lovin' Her Today,' and the second one was 'Crazy'. When the music for the third song started, I didn't pay much attention, that is, not until I heard the first few words and I was paying it my full attention, even though Jason was talking to me.

'_Hello darlin', nice to see ya,_

_It's been a long time._

_You're just as lovely as you used to be,'_

"So, I was thinking that for the holiday's maybe you could take some time off and we could go to my parent's house for Christmas,"

'_How's your new life? Are you happy?_

_Hope you're doin' fine,_

_Just to know means so much to me,'_

"I know that it's a big thing to meet my family, but I _really_ want them to meet you. I know that they'll love you as much as I do, and you know that I am so in love with you, don't you? I want you to know that no matter what, I _love_ you,"

'_What's that darlin? How'm I doin'?_

_Guess I'm doin' all right_

_Except I can't sleep_

_And I cry all night till dawn_

_What I'm tryin to say is _

_I love you and miss you_

_And I'm so sorry that I did you wrong',_

"I guess sometimes it's just hard to say because I get so caught up in everything, that's why I want us to spend Christmas and New Years together, so that there's nothing between us, so that we can learn everything about each other. I want you to know everything there is about me, all of the good _and_ the bad,"

'_Look up darlin'; let me kiss ya,_

_Just for old time's sake_

_Let me hold you in my arms one more time'_

"Chloe, I see you all the time and sometimes you look like you're just in so much pain, I don't want you to hurt anymore, I want to take you away from all of this. Just the two of us, I'll take care of you and you'll never have to worry ever again,"

'_Thank you darlin', may God bless you_

_And may each step you take_

_Bring you closer to the thing you seek to find,'_

"Why don't we just get out of here? We can be whoever we want to be, you can have whatever you want. You can get rid of that beat up old truck and you can get something that you don't have to get that teach friend of yours, Logan, to fix for you. You can have anything you want, we can go anywhere you want to go, all I want is to be with you. I know I tried the music thing and I'm doing the acting thing right now, but I found that what I really want to do with the rest of my life is be with you,"

'_Goodbye darlin, gotta go now_

_Gotta try to find a way_

_To lose these memories_

_Of a love so warm and true_

_And if you should ever find it_

_In your heart to forgive me_

_Come back darlin', _

_I'll be waiting for you,'_

"I guess what I'm trying to say is; Chloe Shree Rynolds, will you merry me?"

Have you ever had one of those moments where someone's talking to you but you haven't been listening to everything they've said and then you catch the very end of it and you feel _very_ confused? That was sort of what happened to me right then.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked lamely.

He looked at me and took a deep, shaky breath. "I said; would you please merry me?"

My heart stopped for a handful of beats, my mouth suddenly went dry and every sane thought that I once ever had fled my mind. I sat, staring at him dumbly, trying to make a mental connection between his words and their meanings, and failing hopelessly in doing so. I tried to work out what he had said in my head and kept some to the same conclusion; he had asked me to merry him, which I didn't want to do. Now, the problem was communicating that in a polite, gentle, yet very clear way, one of which no one had ever briefed me on.

"Jason, I…I…" I tried to say 'I love you', but I couldn't. Explanation as to why? I could only think of one; I didn't. "Uh, I really…think that you're great, but…I don't think I'm it for you,"

"But you are _it_ for me,"

"Okay, but you're not…for me," I said tactlessly.

"Wow, I fell…stupid," he said, pushing himself back away from the table and standing. He pulled out his walled and fished out a twenty dollar bill before tossing it down on the table. "I thought that we really had something, we had passion and love, but I guess it was all just a façade,"

Actors; so dramatic.

"Jason, you need someone that you don't have to assume with, get a girl who will spill out all of her thoughts to you, a girl who has as much…passion, I guess, as you. You deserve it," I said to him just before he walked away, leaving me with the closing notes of the song 'Bluesman'.

It didn't take me long to decide what to do after that, so I paid, grabbed a cab and heading back towards the school. But, remembering my conversation from earlier, decided to take a small detour. About twenty minutes off my original course I was standing inside a smoke filled bar, searching for a familiar face. When I finally saw it, I thought about turning right around and leaving. I saw him taking a long pull from a tall beer bottle and playing pool with a cheap looking, bleached blonde woman, who had on tight leather pants and a leopard print top. Everything about her looked fake. How could he give me a lecture about being better than them and then turn right around just to ignore everything he said and flirt with her.

I quietly watched from a hidden area, knowing that with all of the people and all of the smoke, he wouldn't be able to catch my scent. I watched him as he tried to line up a shot to have her come up behind him and whisper something in his ear. I couldn't hear it, didn't _want_ to hear it, because when she made him miss his shot because of it, I knew it had to be something he wouldn't even _he_ would say to me.

He looked up and our and our eyes met, but I decided that I had seen too much and just wanted to go home. I left the bar and began walking though the parking lot in an attempt to go to the main road and find a cab. I was about mid-may through when I felt and hand gently, but strongly, grab my wrist.

I turned around and saw Logan. Since when did my knees turn to jelly every time he touched me? I fought to keep standing.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your _date_," I said sarcastically, biting back tears.

"She's not my date,"

"Well the two of you looked awfully friendly," I said, wringing my arm from his grip and continuing my trek towards the highway.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'm going home,"

"Get in the car, I'll take you,"

"No, I'm taking a cab,"

"Don't be stupid, kid, get in the car,"

"Don't call me stupid, Logan," I said angrily as I picked up my pace,

I thought he had stopped, went back inside to spend the rest of his night with the cheap blonde, but soon he was right in front of me.

"Can you at least tell me what you're mad at me for?"

"I don't know, considering I'm not real sure myself, but I think it might have something to do with that woman who was blowing in your ear and saying things to you that, quite honestly, I'm glad I _didn't_ hear,"

"Why is that any reason for _you_ to be mad at _me_?"

"Because it was just this morning when you were calling woman like her 'whores', but apparently you don't care. You didn't mean a word you said to me today, and so if you don't mind, I would like to go home and sleep, because getting out of bed today has been a waste of my time,"

"You're not mad at me, you're mad at him,"

"Who?"

"Jason,"

"Why would I be mad at him?"

He got close to me, too close. I could see every fleck of brown in his eyes as he stared down at me. He could smell anger, he knew whom I was mad at, he just chose to ignore my angry for him at that moment. Let it never be said that Logan is not clever; he knows exactly what he's doing, and at that moment, I felt like a small rabbit being trapped by a large wolf. We were standing in an open parking lot but I felt like the only way out was behind him and there was no way that he was letting me through. Yes, Logan is a clever man _and_ animal.

"I don't know what he did to you, darlin', but it's not my fault,"

"That's it? You go through all this predatory, animal hunter crap just to tell me it's not your fault? No, it's not, because the only thing that he did was ask me to merry him." I said, gathering up enough courage to push past him.

"He did _what_?" he asked from behind me.

"My word Logan, I thought your hearing was good? I said that he asked me to merry him,"

"What did you say?" he asked, following behind me.

"I don't believe that that's any of your business,"

"I think it is,"

I spun around to face him, the words from that morning suddenly taking a new tone. He said that I was _his_, but I didn't belong to him; I didn't belong to anyone.

"You don't own me Logan; my love life is my business, none of yours,"

"Did he give you a ring?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, he didn't,"

He swore, calling Jason a name. "That dead-beat kid can't even buy you a ring and you're gonna' merry him?"

"Maybe," I lied.

"He can't take care of you," he yelled. "What are you gonna' do, pop out a few kids and move to California so he can get some stupid acting job that ain't gonna' pay enough for you to even pay rent?"

"It's my life, I can do what I want," I yelled back.

"Let me ask you something; did he tell you he was gonna' take you away from all of this so you never have to worry again?"

"So what if he did, what if he promised me something to look forward to? If you have such a problem with who I'm dating then why don't you step up and be an example?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why don't you show me how a boyfriend should act, show me what it's like to have someone be in love with me? You can't do that, though, can you, because you don't know what any of that means,"

"You're not takin' a cab home, so just get in the car," he said to me quietly but sternly.

"You can't tell me what to do, don't you get that? I don't have to listen to you,"

"You're actin' like a kid,"

"It's because I am!" I said, waving my arms around. "I'm twenty-two years old. Did you know that your brain doesn't fully develop until your twenty-five? That means that my decision-making skills aren't developed either, but guess what; all you get to do is stand by and watch me screw up if I do, because this is what I've earned to do with my life,"

"That's just great, Chloe, screw up you life because you're pissed at me for bein' in some bar with some woman that neither of us knows,"

"I'm not pissed at you for that,"

"Then why are you?" he asked, staring right at me. I felt like he could see into my mind and could hear my thoughts. Even though I knew he wasn't psychic, I tried to clear my mind so that in case, but some odd chance, he had suddenly inherited some weird, telepathic gene.

"_Foghorn Leghorn, Foghorn Leghorn, Foghorn Leghorn,"_ I thought over and over, hoping to fight down the absurd feelings welling up inside of me, but for the second time that day, I started crying.

"Just take me home," I said, finally giving in.

He did and neither of us spoke for the whole ride. When we finally got to the house and pulled the car into the garage, I had fallen asleep. I woke up slightly when I felt Logan lift me from my seat.

"I can walk," I mumbled sleepily.

"I know darlin',"

"Then put me down so I can," I said, but curled up closer to him instead, laying my head on his chest.

"I wanna' carry you, just let me hold you for a little bit," he said.

He carried me all the way upstairs, down the hall and to my room. He laid me down on my bed, pulled off my shoes, went to my closet, got a blanket and covered me with it. I felt his hand run across my cheek, making me quiver. I reached up my hand and covered his with my own, keeping it there on my face.

"I saw you with her and I was just so mad," I mumbled.

"Why?" I heard him ask near my ear.

"Because I, I think…I think I love you,"

He planted a soft kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight Chloe," he said, moving from me, but I grabbed his hand.

"Don't leave, stay in here with me," I said, more asleep than awake.

He moved back, took my hand and lightly kissed it. "I can't do that, darlin',"

"Why not?"

"Goodnight Chloe," he said again, placing my hand down beside me and then left.

As soon as the light from the hall disappeared behind the closed door, I fell right back to sleep.


	10. Drowning In Your Words

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to any of the Marvel characters that I use, and I'm not getting any profit from it...hm...yes, as of now I do believe that each chapter you read, you should send me ten dollars...just a joke, please read freely. If you've got something you don't like about the story or my writing, please tell me so that I can make it better for future fics. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

The next day was Sunday and I woke up late, confused by being in bed with my clothes on and not being under the covers, but having one of the school blankets over me.

I rolled out of bed and tripped over my shoes that were right in my way. I caught myself on the chair beside my bed before I fell into the floor. As I was standing there, I couldn't quite remember everything that had happened the night before, but I could vaguely recall Logan carrying me to bed, kissing my forehead and telling me he couldn't do… _something._

I quickly ran through my bathroom routine, not minding to even change my clothes before going to breakfast. When I got to the dining room, the staff table was nearly full, only missing Logan and the Professor, whom I had passed on my way through the hall, going to his office.

"Hey Chloe," Jean said as I sat down beside her.

"Hi," I said.

"Rough night?" Scott joked.

I shot him a look and Jean slapped his arm. "Scott!" she said.

"Actually I did, thank you. Jason and I broke up last night,"

"Aw, are you okay?" Ororo asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, I think so,"

"Why did you break up?" Scott asked as Logan came in and sat down beside Bobby and Rouge.

"Uh, well, he asked me to merry him and I said no, so we…broke up,"

"That makes sense," Scott said sarcastically, to which Jean slapped him once again.

"Why didn't you want to merry him?" Rouge asked.

"_Of course _she_ would want to know why I didn't want to merry him. She would love for me to go off and live somewhere else,"_ I thought.

"I just didn't like him all that much," I lied. Sadly, the truth was that if that song hadn't been playing at the same time as he was talking, I probably would have said yes. Darn you Conway Twitty!

That was the last we spoke of it and I could have been happier. As far as Logan knew, I _was_ getting married, but unfortunately, he walked into the conversation right at the time when I didn't want him to. It would have done him some good to think that I was getting married just a little bit longer. If nothing else, he knew I was still mad at him at least.

I finished eating breakfast and didn't feel like staying around and talking, so I decided to go back to my room to clean out everything Jason. I had just reached the bottom of the stairs when I heard someone behind me, assuming that it was a student, I moved out of the way to allow them in front of me, but they stopped just behind me. I turned around and saw Logan standing a few feet away from me.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Can we talk?"

"No,"

"I want to know why you're mad at me,"

"Didn't we talk about this last night?"

He ran his hand through the back of his hair, and then grabbing my wrist he pulled me over to an empty spot in the hallway, pushing me up against one of the pillars. "We need to talk,"

"Well this is a great way to kick-start a conversation about why I'm mad at you," I said sarcastically.

"I'm serious Chloe, we need to talk,"

"What do you want to talk about, I told you why I was mad at you; you lied to me yesterday,"

"Do you not remember anything you said to me last night?"

"Yes, I told you that Jason proposed to me, I told you that you couldn't tell me what to do and you said that I was acting like a kid,"

"You don't remember anything you said after I took you to bed?" he asked, staring at me so fiercely that I shuddered as cold chills ran across my skin.

"I was asleep, no I don't remember, but I'm not sure that anything I said could validate you man-handling me up against this stupid pillar," I spat.

"You told me that you were mad at me for playing pool with that woman because you were in love with me, and when I tried to leave, you told me to stay there with you last night,"

If my heart had been attached to a machine, it would have done something called 'flat-lining'. After my heart finally started beating again, it felt like it was going to pound itself right out of my chest. Have you ever had your heartbeat so hard and loud that you wondered if the person you were talking to could hear it? Well, the thing with Logan was that he _could_ hear it.

"I was asleep, I didn't know what I was saying," I choked.

"Are you sure about that, darlin'?" he asked.

Darlin'. Oh how that one word spoken only by him could reduce me into a giddy, blushing schoolgirl.

I swallowed hard and just shook my head 'yes' wordlessly. He moved his eyes away from mine, bent his head and then nodded at me before moving his arm, allowing me to leave, but I didn't. Instead, I attempted something stupid; I attempted to speak.

"Are you sure that I said that I was _in_ love with you, or did I uh…did I say that I…loved you?"

He looked at me with a patronizing glance. "What's the difference?"

"Well," I started timidly. "I do _love_ you, even thought I don't say it, but the difference between the two is, um…"

"When you figure it out come and talk to me," he said, walking away.

My knees finally gave into their threats and I sank to the floor, pushing my back again the pillar.

"_What's going on?"_ I wondered.

The slow adjusted faze that I had gone through those three months of living there was quickly catching up to me in a unforgiving way. I thought that having a boyfriend would be a nice, regular thing to have to keep me grounded while I was living with 'The Justice League', but that plan fell through as soon as actual feelings became attached and Jason had begun to forge a future with the idea of me in mind.

I thought that I was safe, but I was falling apart. Slowly but surely I was disintegrating. Like fog riding on the back of waves in the sea, my vision shifted slightly and my view changed. I couldn't tell what Logan wanted from me, I didn't know what to tell him even if I _did_ know what he wanted, because I wasn't sure of how I felt myself. All I _did_ know was that we couldn't keep up what we were doing for too much longer. I spent most days yelling at him and the nights watching TV and joking around with him. Our relationship was a fiery, passionate one. Passion, yeah, Jason would '_love_' to know that _that's _where my passion was going; into yelling and making up with Wolverine, who seemed to steal my energy for sharing the same type of passion for anyone else. Yes, if we kept it up for much longer we were both going to end up crazy or hurt. I had been through both before and personally favored being insane over getting hurt again. At least when you're crazy you have fun.

* * *

Wednesday morning I had an interview with a girl named Sarah so I was trying to get ready in time to grab some breakfast before heading out. I hadn't stopped putting all of the thought into my work wardrobe as I had when I first started. I figured that it wouldn't hurt, even if it didn't help, and so in result I wore blue to nearly every interview. On that day, I was wearing a long blue sweater, a scarf tied around my neck, a brown corduroy skirt and brown knee high boots. I didn't pull my hair into a ponytail, but I had pulled some of it back with a clip.

I had around forty-five minutes before I needed to leave, but I wanted to speak to the Professor for a few minutes and give him back some of the folders that he had given me with information about the interviews and get a few new ones.

As I was heading out of my bedroom, I saw another present lying in front of my door. I looked around and once again, saw no culprit. I picked up the curious package, carried it back to my bed and unwrapped it to reveal a three box set of 'The Three Stooges' movies. I smiled; they had to know me pretty well to know that I loved 'The Three Stooges'.

"_It must be Jean,"_ I thought. _"She's psychic; of course she would know my favorite scent of perfume and my sense of humor. Very good choice, I'll have fun watching theses tonight,"_

I threw the paper away, placed my new movies beside my TV and was completely satisfied with both of my Secret Santa gifts, and was happy that Jean could read my mind.

I had left Rouge's second present in her gym locker the day before and I was pretty sure that she had like it, because I had seen her wearing one of the scarves that night at dinner.

After making my way down to breakfast, I found that everyone was gone and everything had been cleaned up, so I went to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. While I was eating, Scott came into the kitchen.

"Good morning," he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," I said, my mouth full of Frosted Flakes.

"Charming," he smiled at me.

"I know, one can only wonder why I don't need a stick to beat off all of my admirers," I said sarcastically, smiling back. "How are classes?"

"Not so good, the girls keep complaining about how cold the garage is since the vents got messed up in there last week,"

"They're girls, they're supposed to complain," I said. "When are they supposed to come fix it?"

He looked at his watch. "Two days ago,"

"Ah yes, aren't the holiday's just lovely?"

He just shook his head and smiled at me.

I loved Scott; he was great, a little up tight at times, but great nonetheless. He was truly like a big brother to me. We could joke around and laugh about anything, he was so serious for the most part but he let me see the funny side of him, and I think he knew that I needed it. When everything felt so serious around me, I liked to keep the situation light with humor. I didn't do well when I couldn't crack a joke about something, and I thanked Scott sincerely for allowing me to keep my sanity by acting crazy with him, if even just for a little bit.

"Have you got an interview today?" he asked.

"Yeah, Sarah Watson, age thirteen, mutation is cat like abilities. She can see in the dark and has good hearing. Her father is dead and her mother is incarcerated for hitting a man with a car while intoxicated. Her grandparents on her father's side are dead; her grandparents on her mother's side are divorced, with her grandfather in a nursing home and her grandmother has an estranged relationship with her ever since her mother's imprisonment,"

"You've got some work on your hands today,"

"I'd rather be doing that than teaching mechanics in the freezing cold garage; at least it's going to be heated where I'm at," I smiled.

"One of these days I'm going to get you in there,"

"I don't work on anything but my own truck,

"Which you have to work on constantly,"

"It's fine," I defended, standing and putting my bowl in the dish washer.

"The Professor would give you one of the schools cars, if you want?"

I made a slight pouty face. "I like my truck," I said.

He laughed, walked over and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "Good luck with your interview today," he said.

"Thanks, good luck with the girls out in the cold garage," I said, smiling up at him.

"Alright, bye," he said, walking from the kitchen with his coffee in hand.

"Bye," I called after him.

* * *

I slowly pulled up to the entrance of St. Timothy's Foster Care, feeling an all too familiar eerie chill run down my spin as I noted the bars across the windows. I felt so sad, just from standing in the parking lot, that I debated whether I even wanted to really go in. Professor Xavier would understand if I just wanted to run away in fear and self-pity, right? I mean, he was an intelligent man, he could see that all I was, was a bottle of emotion, just waiting to be shook up by all of the events until I popped, fizzing over with everything inside of me. But, I couldn't do that; not to the school, not to Sarah, not to myself. I had to suck it up, I was an adult and I needed to start acting like one. Therefore, I did suck it up and walked into the very sad building.

"Hi, I'm from Professor Xavier's school for the gifted and I had an appointment to see Sarah Watson," I smiled politely to the portly, older woman sitting behind the desk by the front entrance.

"What's you're name?" she asked.

"Chloe Rynolds,"

She thumbed through a few pages in a clipboard. "Alright, follow me," she said, standing and leading me back further into the building, down a series of halls and into a small room with around five straight chairs all sitting around a little round table. There was a tiny, little girl sitting in one of the chairs all by herself. "Have at it," said the woman and the left.

I stared back at the closed door, slightly in shook by how very unprofessional she had been, but then wondering _why_ I was shocked. I knew that most of the staffs that I had met while working were very unprofessional unless working with their clients.

"Hi Sarah, I'm Chloe," I said to the small girl who was curled up in her seat, her face pointed down. "I'm here to talk to you about something you might like to hear,"

"Am I going to live with you?" she asked me in a small voice.

"Well, that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about," I said. She raised her face up to look at me from over her forearm where she was resting her chin. I smiled at her. "I work at a school and the owner, who is a really nice man, would like you to come live there with us,"

"What kind of school is it?"

"It's a boarding school for gifted kids,"

"What kind of gifted kids?"

"Ones a lot like you,"

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at me with her golden cat eyes.

I leaned in closer to her, even thought I knew she could hear my perfectly well from where I was. "The students at the school I work all have gifts, unique powers, just like you,"

"What kind of powers?"

"There are some who can walk through walls or can go invisible. I have a friend who can create ice with his hands and another who can control the weather,"

"Why does the owner want me to go, I can do anything like that," she lied.

"Sarah, I know that you're scared for other people to find out about it, but what you have is a gift, not a curse, not like other people have told you. This school is set up so that you can go to classes with other kids your age, you can practice your powers without anyone judging you and no one outside of the school will know about it. It's your secret and it'll be kept safe,"

"But if you say that it's a gift and not a curse then why do we have to hide it?"

"Because there are _a lot_ of people out in the world who don't understand us, and people fear what that don't understand,"

"Us?" she repeated.

I smiled at her and nodded my head. "Yeah, 'us', I'm in this with you too, kid. I've even been in one of these places before, too," I said, resuming my original position in my seat and looking around. "It does get better, I promise, and this school can be your first step towards making it better,"

She looked away for a moment and when she returned her gaze back to mine, there were tears rolling from her big eyes. "I'm scared," she whispered to me.

"I know, it's a scary thing to have to deal with, but-"

"No," she said, cutting me off. "I'm scared. My daddy, he sent me letters, he wants to kidnap me and take me to Mexico,"

I paused for a moment, remembering the file that Professor Xavier had given me; it had said that her father was dead. "How is that possible?" I asked.

"I don't know,"

"Sweetie, your daddy, he passed away two years ago, he can't be sending you letters," I said, trying to be careful with my words.

"No, I thought he did but he didn't. He said that he did something bad and had to go away, so he was pretending that he died. If he can make the police think that he's dead then how would they find me if he took me away?"

I was in _way_ over my head and had no idea what to do next.


	11. The Santa Theory

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any of Marvel's characters, or I would be rich out the wazoo.

Sidnote: Thank you so much to ulie for pointing out that I've been spelling Rogue wrong. As some of you may know, I have dyslexia and when I spell a word if all of the letters are there and the first and last one are in the right place, it's hard for me to understand that it's spelled wrong. I will try my hardest to spell it the right way from now on, so thank you for that. Please enjoy!

* * *

"She said her father wanted to kidnap her and take her to Mexico?" Scott asked me over the phone.

"That's what she said, yeah. This is so not even anything that I've been taught to deal with, we're not talking about just another student; we're talking about a girl who might have evidence that a man who has been assumed dead for two years is alive and wanting to take her away. What am I supposed to do?" I asked. I had excused myself so that I could go to my truck and call someone at the school so that I could as them what to do. Scott was the only person I could think of to call when the Professor hadn't answered his office phone.

"Okay, look, call the police and tell them what she told you, then stay with her until they get there,"

"What is she doesn't want me to call the police? I mean, this is a big deal. If I call the police without asking then she won't trust me and if I do that she can _not_ stay here without someone to watch out for her,"

"Okay, go talk to her and ask her what she wants you to do. If she wants you to call the police then do it and stay there. If all she has are letters as proof than there shouldn't be too much for her to talk to them about, after that you get all of her stuff and bring her here with you, okay?"

I took a deep breath and watched it as I let it out into the cold air. "Yeah, okay,"

"Alright, if you need me than call me back, I'll have my cell phone with me, if you want anything,"

"Okay, thank you, bye,"

"Bye," he said before I hung up.

My day was _not_ going how I had planned.

"_Suck it up, Chloe, you've got to take care of this on your own,"_ I thought to myself, but I was slightly nervous. I was dealing with something other than mutants; what I was dealing with could potentially put that girl, Sarah, in either more or less danger than she was already in, but I had to do it.

It didn't take too long before the police arrived once Sarah had agreed to call them. I then had to convince her that she was going to be safe at the school, which wasn't easy to do. She was scared and paranoid, but I had managed to do it.

We were sitting down on the front steps to the group home while Sarah talked to the police. She wanted me with her and I figured it was the least I could do to comfort her, when I heard a motorcycle come around the corner and pull into the parking lot. I watched as the familiar form climbed off the bike, took off his helmet and placed it on the seat. Logan began to walk closer to me, his hair looking wilder than ever.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as he stopped just a few feet away from where I was sitting.

The police officer that Sarah was speaking to looked up at him. "Is there a problem, ma'am?" he asked me.

"No, he's one of my co-workers from the school that we're taking Miss Watson to live at,"

"Summers told me what was goin' on and I thought you might need someone else down here," he said, walking up to the step below mind and the crouched down in front of me.

"Thanks," I said with a smile. We hadn't really spoken all that much since our little conversation in the hallway. "Sarah, this is my friend Logan,"

"Hi," she said bashfully.

"Hey," he said with a gentle smile as the police officer left to go confer with the other officer that had arrived with him and was inside talking to the owner of the home.

"You work at that school, too?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, you're gonna' be alright there, don't worry about it," he said. I knew that he was comforting her but the tone of his voice even made me feel automatically safe.

Logan; a man whom you did not want to run into in a back alley somewhere, but the only man that I would feel safe with doing so.

"Do you promise?" she asked in a low voice.

Logan silently nodded his head at her. "I promise, yeah," he said, looking her right in the eyes.

"Okay, I'm ready to go then," she said, sounding, for the first time since I heard her speak, sure of what she was saying.

We packed up what few belongings she had and put them into my truck, after the police had spoken to Sarah to get all of the information from her that they needed. Then they had to call Professor Xavier to confirm that she was actually going to live at his school instead of Logan and me just being crazy kidnappers, or something.

As we drove back to the school, Logan followed closely behind us on his motorcycle. I tried to stop looking in my rear view mirror, but he was making me so nervous behind me, I couldn't help it.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Sarah asked, finally finding her voice.

"No, not quite,"

"Do you like him?"

"As more than a friend?" I asked, turning the heater up a little higher as it was still cold.

"Yeah,"

"Uh, no," I said, making a right at a stop light.

"But your heart sped up really fast when you saw him," she said.

"You could hear that?" I asked.

"Yeah, my hearing's really good,"

"Apparently. Logan and I, we have a bit of a…complicated relationship. I met him when I wasn't much older than you, but then he left and went to work at Xavier's. I didn't see him for six years and when I did, we had both changed a lot and I had grown up, so therefore, problems ensued. One bit of advice; don't ever grow up, being a kid is much more fun,"

She was quiet for a little while. "Are you ever going to tell him that you like him?" she pushed, even thought I had told her that I_ didn't_ like him.

"Probably not, because one; when you get older you lose all control of your body and find yourself blushing, or giggling, or your heart speeding up at the sight of someone, even if you don't want any of it to happen, and so I don't know that I _do_ like him. I know that he doesn't like me. He treats me like his little sister, or something, so there would be no point in telling him something like that when I know he doesn't feel the same,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, he likes…well, he likes _all_ women, but I'm off in a little circle in his mind somewhere, holding a 'Do Not Enter' sign. Why?"

"It's just that I noticed when you smiled at him on the steps; his heartbeat sped up, too,"

Now it was my turn to ask; "Are you sure?"

"Well, it was already beating kind of fast anyway, but when you smiled at him it became a_ lot_ louder,"

I smiled inwardly. _I_ made Logan's heart rate jump higher. Then it all seemed to make sense; _that's_ why he was so jealous of Jason, _that's_ why he had allowed me to play pool with him, why he had stayed with me while I was sick, why he had been so mad when he thought that I was engaged. I had accidentally told him that I loved him after he had personally carried me to my bedroom, then when we tried to talk about it and I got all flustered _that_ had been why he had told me to go tell him when I had figured it out: I think Wolverine had a crush. On _me_.

* * *

Sarah didn't waste time getting to know everyone and at dinner that night, she had already found a table full of friends to sit with, and looked to be having a lot of fun as I passed by on my way to the staff table.

"How are you feeling?" the Professor asked me as I sat down beside him at the table to eat.

"As if you don't know?" I joked. "I'm okay, I guess, it's her that I'm worried about, though. She waiting for the other shoe to drop and she wants me to tell her that it won't,"

"You can't do that?" Rogue asked.

"No, because eventually it will," I answered.

"That's not entirely true," said Xavier. "She's waiting for her father to show up and try to take her away, that much you can assure her will not happen. But as for her whole ordeal being over with, I'm afraid you're right Chloe; it's not. If you give her very specific hope then I do believe that she will be fine. You, on the other hand, will be taking some time off until after the winter holidays. You're spending far too much time getting involved with the students right now and it's making you far too stressed,"

"I'm fine," I defended. "I just had an off day today. I knew something felt weird when I was in the parking lot and I should have called back here to get some help, I'll know better next time,"

"Chloe, we're mutants, we have heightened senses, if you felt something was wrong you shouldn't have gone in at all," he said to me.

"I know, next time I won't," I said, forcing a smile.

I finished dinner and was talking to everyone when Logan stood up to leave. I wanted to thank him for coming down to make sure that I was all right, so I followed him.

"Hey, Logan," I said, stopping him in the doorway, and then joining him where he stood.

"Yeah?"

"_Thump, thump, thump,"_ said my heart at being so close to him.

"I just wanted to say thank you for coming down there earlier today, I was a little bit nervous and it was nice to have someone down there with me," I smiled, wishing I could hear _his_ heart instead of my very loud own.

"Well, I finished with classes early and didn't have anything to do," he said with a smirk.

Lies, all lies. Xavier told me that Logan had gone busting into his office and told him that he was taking the rest of the day off to go find me. Oh how suave he thought he was.

"I uh," I started, running my fingers back through my curly hair (Bad idea; makes it frizzy). Why was it so hard to tell people 'thank you'? "I appreciate it, whatever the reason was. I felt better with you there, so I'm glad you came," Blushingly I smiled, and then looked away.

"Chloe, I," he started.

"Oh, you two are under the mistletoe!" Scott exclaimed in mock excitement as he walked up on us and pointed to the sprig up above our heads, hanging in the archway. "Aw, now you have to kiss,"

"Uh," Logan said dumbly, looking up and swearing.

I let out a small laugh. "I swear that I didn't do this on purpose," I said, trying to cover my smile with my hand.

The look on his face was priceless.

"Well go on," Scott urged and Jean slapped his arm.

I stood up on my tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, but when I tried to pull away, he pulled me closer to him, giving me an actual, proper kiss.

"Merry Christmas," I squeaked out as he let me go.

He looked down at me with a smug smile and gave me a wink. "Merry Christmas, darlin'," he said with a gruff laugh.

I moved away, blushing, completely turning red from my cheeks out to my ears. I embarrassingly walked from the doorway and went upstairs to my bedroom. Once there, I fell face down onto my bed, and very slowly did it only begin to sink in what had just happened. I kissed Logan. He kissed me. We kissed each other, and I couldn't help but let out a giddy squeal.

I meant to get up and clean my room, or wash some clothes, or even jump up and down on my bed like a giddy little girl while gleefully singing at the top of my lungs about how happy I was, but, unfortunately, I fell asleep, quite content with the day.

* * *

I rolled over in bed and when I looked out the window, I saw that it was dark and snowing out. I got up and changed from my work clothes into a pair of sweatpants and a short sleeve T-Shirt. When I realized I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep for a while, I decided to go downstairs to the kitchen. I was having a real bad craving for hot chocolate. So, I slipped on a pair of house shoes and took the clip from my hair before heading downstairs. When I got to the kitchen door, I paused before going in; someone was already in there talking, and listening quietly, I could hear that it was one of the students and another person.

"But what if Santa doesn't know that I'm living here? What if he thinks I'm still at the orphanage?" the little girl's voice asked, and I knew that it was Kayla. She was only eight years old, one of the youngest students there.

There was a bit of a pause and I began to wonder if she was _actually_ talking to someone else, when a rough voice came with his reply; "The way I see it, kid; it Santa's got all that magic to be flyin' all over the world in one night, he knows where he's goin'. 'Sides, I'm sure the Professor told him that you were here, I wouldn't worry about it,"

I smiled as I heard Logan trying to comfort her into believing that Santa Claus wouldn't forget her there.

When did it happen? When exactly did he go from Wolverine, violent cage fighter to Mr. Logan, comforting teacher and Santa expert? Maybe it was the girl inside of me growing up into a woman, but there was just something so sexy about the way I had seen him handling himself around the kids since moving in with him.

I heard her let out a long sigh. "Are you sure?"

"Alright listen, talk to the Professor about it tomorrow, if he hasn't told him you can write him a letter. There's enough time to get it to him before Christmas,"

She let out another dramatically long sigh. "Okay," she said.

"Alright, get up to bed; you've still got school in the mornin',"

"Okay, goodnight Mr. Logan,"

"Night," he said and a few moments later she came padding from the kitchen and passed me. I put my finger up to my mouth to indicate that I wanted to surprise Logan and not to give me away. She just grinned and waved at me before going back upstairs. I stood in the entryway quietly for a minute or two, just watching him. "You know you're not that great at sneakin' up on people?"

"Maybe I wasn't sneaking up on you," I said, leaning up against the doorway, crossing my arms and tilting my head to the side.

He looked at me from over his shoulder. "Then what are you doin'?"

"Well, I came to make hot chocolate, but after hearing that little conversation I'm beginning to wonder if Santa knows that I've moved, too," I said with a smile. He let out an aggravated half growl, half grunt. "There's really no point in putting on that He-Man act anymore, but tomorrow everyone will know your whole little Santa theory,"

"So you just came to make fun of me?"

"No, but I can't resist doing so, and since we're both here there's no point in fighting it," I smiled, walking over to the oven. "Do you want some coco?"

"No,"

"Are you sure, I make some _good_ hot chocolate," I said, holding up the box of coco and shaking my hips jokingly.

He smiled at me, shook his head and took a sip of his Dr. Pepper. "I'm fine," he said.

"Alright," I said and then went to work making me some on the stove. I could feel him watching me while I was mixing it and looked over at him and smiled, tucking the loose hair around my face behind me ears. My seemingly almost ever-present blush pinched my cheeks once again as he just stared at me, leaving me to wonder what he was thinking about. "Are you not freezing?" I asked, trying to ease the tension.

"No," he answered simply.

"I don't see how to can wear those things during the winter," I said, noting his light gray A-Shirt.

"I don't usually wear anything at this time of night," he smirked.

"Thank you for that, I'm sure it'll come in real handy when the next person stops me in the hall to ask what you sleep in," I said sarcastically, finally coaxing a grin from him.

He ran his hand through the back of his hair. "That subject comes up a lot with you, too?"

I rolled my eyes at him and did my best not to crack up. "The good thing about you being so egotistical, I guess, is that no one ever has to remind you that you're attractive; you do that on your own,"

"You think I'm attractive?" he asked slyly.

I covered my mouth in mock shook with one of my hands, while continuing to stir my warming chocolate with the other. "As if you didn't already know that," I said in a sarcastic tone. "I think most woman who said that they _didn't_ find you attractive would be lying,"

"That's not what I asked," he said, staring at me with a fierce gaze.

My pulse raced and I had to look away from him, afraid that my knees would buckle and give out on my. I swallowed hard, deepening my already pink blush. "Yes," I choked out.

"What?" he asked, even though I knew that he heard my perfectly well. What a jerk.

"I said 'no', sorry; you just don't do it for me," I lied. He let out a small, half laugh. "Well, about you, do you think I'm attractive?"

"_That should shut him up,"_ I thought. _"Let's see if he laughs anymore,"_

"_Yeah," he said, then took a sip from his Dr. Pepper bottle and didn't say anything else._

"_No, you can't just leave it at that! Divulge, tell me _what_ you think is attractive about me! Ah!"_ My mind screamed, but I was determined to remain calm.

"Okay, I do think that you're attractive, just don't puff up on me; it's not really a surprise or anything," I admitted, giving in.

We didn't say anything else to each other as I finished my hot chocolate, poured it into a cup and sat down on one of the stools across from Logan at the island in the middle of the kitchen. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

"Why did you tell me that you were engaged when you told him no?" he asked, filling the silence with his deep, rough voice.

"I didn't actually tell you that I was engaged; I said that he proposed to me and you _assumed _that I was engaged. I just got too mad at you to tell you the truth, so I let you think that,"

"Why did you really not want to merry him?"

I paused for a moment, holding my cup up to my mouth. I could feel the heat rising from it, rolling right into my face. "Have you ever heard of Conway Twitty?" I asked.

He stared at me in confusing. "His real name is Conway Twitty?"

"No, he's a singer, never mind. The point is, he has a song called 'Hello Darlin',"

"So?" he asked, still confused.

"So, the song was playing when he asked me to merry him and when I heard it I remembered what you were telling me about being smart, and pretty and that I was your darlin', or whatever. Anyway, it just reminded me that I didn't have to say yes. I could find someone who loved me, not the non-mutant Chloe, but the real me, because you do. I just have to find someone that _I_ love who loves me like that," I said and then laughed weakly. "Although it may not be impossible, that's still going to be a challenge,"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is that a challenge?"

"Don't. You know me; you know that three years of therapy can't erase what's been done to me over my life. Everyone I know leaves; they die, they go away, they _give_ me away. I don't trust people because they let me down, not just one or two, _everyone_. No one wants to merry someone who doesn't trust them, and if they did, I wouldn't want to merry them because they, obviously, wouldn't trust me. The thing that gets me though, is I don't trust myself. What if I get blinded by all of their lies and everything that they tell me? I don't want to end up like my mother; she married two murderers, and we _both_ paid for it. I…I, uh…crap, why do you always make me cry?" I asked with a laugh, wiping away tears from my fire hot cheeks. "Maybe I'm just not meant to have someone love me; maybe I don't deserve it,"

"Why don't you deserve it?"

"Maybe you're supposed to earn stuff like that. I don't know, I mean, what if I've never done anything that merits having people love me?"

"Then they've screwed up somewhere,"

"How's that?"

"Because whether you're supposed to earn it, or if you have or not, it doesn't matter; I love you, kid, and I ain't gonna' leave you again,"

Tears rolled down my face faster than I could wipe them away. "I love you, too," I wept.

"Well, I don't think_ I_ deserve it,"

"You do, though,"

"And you deserve more than that guy could give you,"

"Why?"

"Chloe, you've earned everything good that you get,"

"How?"

"Do you forgive me for leavin' you, for what that man did to your mother, to what your father did to you?"

"Yes," I said, still crying.

"Then that's how you've earned it; people do something to you and you forgive them because you know people screw up. You're too smart to think that you've done anything wrong to be punished so that people can't love you. What had you done that would even make you think that?" he asked, getting passionately riled up with the conversation.

"I don't know, I'm not exactly a saint, Logan, I've done some bad things before,"

"Do you love me?" he asked, his eyes wide and staring right at me.

"What?" I asked confused. Hadn't I just told him that I did?

"Do you love me?" he repeated.

"Yes," I answered.

"I've killed people before Chloe; I've watched people die because of me,"

"But you were just protecting yourself, though,"

"You can justify it for whatever reason, but I did it. Have you ever killed anyone before?"

"No,"

"Then what have you done that makes you believe that you shouldn't have everything that you want?"

"I don't know,"

"Then it's not true,"

"So why does everyone leave me? Why is it that every time I find someone who cares about me and I care about them, something bad happens, why does it happen to _me_?"

"I don't know,"

"I can't…if anything happens to you, or anyone else, I couldn't take it. I love this place and everyone here,"

"Even Marie?" he asked with a light smirk, interrupting me.

I let out a laugh. "Yeah, even Rogue. I love you all and if something were to happen, I don't know what I would do. This is my home, my job. Everything that I love is here, nothing bad can happen to me now or I will just…lose it,"

"Nothing's gonna' happen to you while I'm here, and I told you; I'm not leavin' you again,"

"Thank you," I said.

The words could not express my feelings, but he knew I meant them. Though the words could not express my feelings, my feelings also couldn't be expressed in words, so I didn't try. I just sat there crying. He didn't try to comfort me, and I was glad. I was feeling so many things at once I didn't know what to do, so I just stayed there, crying from being so happy. Emotional Breakthrough; take that Dr. Vandershow, my emotions were not stunted, it's just that no one tested them quite like Logan, who made me feel a hundred things at once, almost every time we spoke. Some times it was anger, sadness, but most of the time, Logan made me happy and feel good about myself, something that no one else had done, not because I was a hard person to crack, but because no one had cared enough to try.

At first, Logan probably comes off as a harsh, rough man, but he wasn't all that bad. His problem was that he was so passionate about what he felt that it could come off as a bit intimidating. I mean, I'm not saying that Wolverine is a big, soft teddy bear inside who enjoys watching figure skating over hockey or would be caught dead wearing a suit anywhere. It's just that when you get right down to it, he's a broken man and the reason he comes off as mean is because his edges are a little rough and sharp and tend to cut without meaning to. Like a broken mirror, when you look at Logan you don't see a whole image, you see dozens of them, distracting you from ever concentrating on just one, so that you can't ever know what you're supposed to be seeing. But if someone tells you what to focus on, you can see him, a man who feels responsible for a lot of things that were out of his hands when they happened. I loved him more than anyone I had ever consciously loved. I just wasn't sure how far it reached out, what line, if any, of which it stopped outside. I didn't care; I didn't want to spend my time wondering about and trying to figure out how I felt about him. I just wanted to let it happen.

"Do you like 'The Three Stooges'?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered suspiciously.

"I got a really fantastic Secret Santa gift today; do you want to watch them with me?"

He slowly nodded his head at me. "Yeah,"

We spent the next two hours watching some of the movies together and when it reached three-thirty in the morning, we decided to go to bed since he had to teach in less than five hours. So he walked me to my room and let me hug him before going to bed.

"Goodnight, darlin',"

"Thank you," I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight," I smiled and then went into my room.

I found that I could sleep much better when I was in a good mood and I was looking forward to the next day without any work. Perhaps Logan would need an assistant for his classes, I wondered, or maybe I might even help Scott out with the girls if the heating was still out in the garage.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you're drifting off to sleep and you have a thought and it makes so much sense at the time but when you think about it later, you don't even know where it came from? That's what was happening to me as I was going to sleep. I was thinking about how it would be to merry Logan. I don't know if it was a thought or a dream but I could see the wedding and it was a very odd one. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt and I was wearing a dress and cowboy boots, but everyone else was all dressed up. It was a beautiful wedding with everyone from the school there, but the part that didn't make any sense was that my mother was there, beaming at us.

Then she said something to me; "Being brave doesn't mean being un-afraid, being brave means knowing your fears and not letting them get in your way. Don't let being scared keep you from loving the people around you, because they care about you so much. Sometimes loving people can hurt, because they can leave you, but the pain of losing someone you love is nowhere near as bad as never loving someone you lose. I'm right here baby, you're going to be okay,"

That's when I woke up. It was morning and I had a new perspective in mind. To a certain degree, I had been eluding all of my co-workers, trying to force myself to see them as jus that; co-workers, when the truth was that I wanted them to be my family, and because I had been so stupid I hadn't seen that they had already accepted me into theirs.

I hadn't dreamt of my mother in such a long time, I had nearly forgotten what she looked like, and as the images of my vivid dream faded away to the back of my mind, I tried to hold on, but there was no way I could. Instead, she was stolen from my thoughts and replaced with the thought of Logan and I being married. It probably wouldn't work out too well, but just imagine how cute our kids would be.

* * *

"Are you just here to watch or are you gonna' help me?"

"I think I'm just going to sit back and watch you," I smiled. Logan was in the garage that next afternoon working on his car. "You missed lunch,"

"I wasn't hungry,"

"That's unusual," I said, propping my chin up in the palm of my hand. "You usually eat as much as I do,"

"I'm on a diet," he joked, leaning up from under the hood to give me a wink.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked.

He scratched the back of his head with his greasy hand and stared in at the motor. "It's the transmission,"

"Can you fix it?"

"Yeah,"

"Are you not freezing out here?"

"No,"

"Does that mean that you are?"

"What?"

"I asked if you were _not_ freezing, you said no, so that means that you are," I grinned.

"I'm not," he said, his top half disappearing back under the hood of his car.

"Are you going to say anything to me that involves more than three words?"

I heard a gruff laugh break from his body. "Not right now; I'm workin',"

"Well there's five right there," I said. "What do you want me to do to help you?"

"Nothing right now,"

"Do you enjoy working on cars, or do you just do it because you have to?"

"It like it, it's a man thing,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that men like to work on cars,"

"And woman down?"

"No, don't start any of that liberal woman crap with me right now,"

"Excuse me Logan, but I don't think that enjoying working on cars makes anyone liberal,"

"Do you like working on your truck?"

"No, I always get sweaty and greasy, it's gross," I said.

"Alright, now leave me alone about it,"

"You're so hostile,"

"And you're annoying me right now,"

"You love it when I annoy you, I know you do, don't deny it,"

He slammed down the hood of his car. "Throw me that rag," he said, pointing to the grease stained rag in the chair beside me.

"Are you done?"

"No," he said, catching the rag and wiping off his hands.

"Then why are you quitting?"

"'Cause I want you outta' here," he said with a smug smirk.

"You think that you can just run me out of here that easily?"

"Yeah," he said, going towards the door, which led back into the school.

"Okay," I shrugged, standing up beside him. He slung his arm around my shoulder. "Don't get grease on my shirt," I joked and I could feel his laugh rattle through him. I loved the way he laughed; there was someone so comforting about it. I remember that when I had first met him I thought that his smile was a rare occurrence to bask in, which I still felt, but being able to make him laugh; I could devote my whole life to that cause and never be un-happy with the results.

"He did _not_ get you in the garage before I did," Scott said, stopping us in the hall.

"Face it Summers; she likes me better," Logan said, leaving for his room to, presumably, take a shower.

"I wasn't actually doing anything, I was just kind of watching," I said sheepishly.

"Really, then how did you get grease on your shirt?" he asked, pointing to the spot where Logan had had his hand slung across my shoulder, leaving a small grease spot on my pink shirt.

"Gross, I told him not to mess up my shirt, that is so not going to come out,"

"Yeah, sure, it's all his fault," he teased.

"Leave me alone," I said as he turned to walk away.

"Oh, the Professor wanted to know if you wanted to help out with the kids caroling tonight or you wanted to stay here and keep an eye on the house and the kids who are staying here,"

"Well, I've never been one for caroling, I always get off key and then start complaining about how cold it is, so I think I'll just stay here,"

"I thought you might,"

"And why is that again?" I asked with a curious smile.

"Logan's staying here, too," he said, looking smug.

"Well, maybe I _will_ go, then," I said.

"Oh yeah, because you just hate to be here with Logan by yourself," he said sarcastically.

"You know, I really don't like you as much as I thought I did," I lied.

He just smiled at me and kept walking, striking up a chorus of 'Jingle Bells' on his way down the hall. I shook my head and laughed; it was the worst version of 'Jingle Bells' I had ever heard.

I walked through the school, looking at all of the Christmas decorations, taking it all in. I had never had a proper Christmas before, no matter where I was living, no one want went all out the way the Professor had. Right after Thanksgiving all of the staff, and most of the students, had all helped with hanging everything up. I helped Jean hang the Christmas lights on two of the trees in the living room, Scott hand most of the mistletoe in the school, and even personally hung the one under which Logan and I had been caught. However, I enjoyed hanging the ornaments the most, because that's when the Professor had given me one of my own to hang, and then I nearly cried.

I had always been emotionally attached to Christmas, as it was my mother's favorite holiday. We would always go out two weeks before and buy a real tree to put up in the living room, none of that fake tree deal so many people do. Even though the trees at the school weren't real, I thought they were nice. But we would bake cookies, sing Christmas carols, go shopping and we would always, always, _always_ watch the 'How The Grinch Stole Christmas' cartoon together. Oh how I missed her.

* * *

"Didn't feel like goin' out and singin'?" Logan asked me later that night as I was sitting in the living room watching TV.

"I thought that since I was _so_ good at singing, I'd stay here instead of going out and making all of the kids look bad," I said sarcastically. "Actually, I just didn't feel like getting out in the weather tonight,"

He sat down on the couch beside me. "You lived in Canada for how long and you don't like the weather _here_?"

"I'm a wimp, I get cold easily," I said.

"What are we watching?"

"We are going to watch 'How The Grinch Stole Christmas',"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I love that movie,"

"I hate it, why can't we watch the hockey game?"

"Because I was in here first so I get to decide what we watch. Besides, I don't understand the point of hockey; it's just a bunch of grown men figure skating and whacking each other with sticks,"

"That_ is_ the point, and they're not figure skating,"

"Whatever, I still don't get it,"

"And I don't get why you want to watch a cartoon,"

"It's not _just_ a cartoon, it's a holiday classic," I corrected him as the show began.

He grunted in discontent, but stayed seating beside me, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "What is he?" he asked as they showed the first shot of the Grinch.

"He's a Grinch,"

"What is that, though?"

"It's a fictionalized species of Who, I guess,"

"What's a Who?"

"They're little people who live inside snowflakes, they're just Whos,"

"Who's on first?" he asked, smirking at me.

"What's on second," I replied.

"I don't know's on third,"

"Abbott and Costello, funny guys,"

"You're taste ain't all that bad, even if you do watch cartoons," he said with a wink.

We were both quiet for a few more minutes as we watched the TV together. "What are you thinking about right now?" I asked, looking at him.

"How stupid this show is,"

A small smile spread across my face. "I'm serious," I said, pulling my legs up on the cough and curling up as I watched him.

He looked over at me as the show went on commercial. "I'm thinkin' about how bad I need a beer right now," he said, ruffling the back of his hair with his hand. I rolled my eyes at him. "So what are you thinkin' about then?"

"My mother," I sighed, propping my chin on my knee. "She liked Christmas,"

"Why did you want to live with me?" he asked after a small pause.

"I felt like you understood me. Maybe I knew deep down that you were a mutant, too, and that's why I felt so close to you, I don't know, but I thought it might have been fun; just you and me, going all over Canada while you would fight. You were the only father figure that I really had,"

"What did your father do, why didn't you want to live with him?" he asked.

"He killed a little boy," I said, taking a slow breath. "He was only fourteen and he lived next door to us," I started crying as I remembered the grotesque details in which the judge had described what had happened so many years before, scaring me mentally ever since. "He didn't do anything, he was just a little kid, but he didn't care, he killed him because he was a mutant. Why do they do that, why do they hate us?"

He pulled me to him, allowing me to burry my tear streaked face in the crook of his neck. "I don't know why they hate us, but that's not our problem, it's theirs. There's nothing wrong with us; it's them. Don't let them get to you kid, that's how they win," he said, holding me.

I inhaled him deeply; he may have said he needed a beer, but he smelled of Jack Daniels and cigar smoke. I had never felt as safe as I did in his arms as he stroked my hair, calming me and I never wanted to me, because he was my constant, my rock, my support. I never loved him more than I did that night.


	12. On the Twelth Day of Christmas

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything, but please don't sue; I am but a poor, seventeen year old girl with no job, you really wouldn't get much if you did. I hope you guys are liking the story so far, it's only got a few more chapters left and then I'm working on another story, perhaps a sequel, so I hope you like this chapter, enjoy!

* * *

I woke up the morning of Christmas Eve quite excited; it was the day we were supposed to find out who our Secret Santas were. I jumped from my bed and ran to my door, certain to see my last gift, but upon opening the bedroom door, I saw no present in the hall as I the other two had been. I was a little disappointed but decided that I could wait for a few more hours before confirming my suspicions of Jean being my Secret Santa.

I had woken up at nearly three that morning, needing to go to the bathroom and decided to sit Rogue's present out in front of her door. As I was quietly padding back to my room, Logan popped out of his room to see what I was doing up. My heart froze when I saw his sleepy frame taking up his doorway. My thoughts turned to wondering how he could roll of out bed and still look so beautiful. His hair, funnily, looked more attractive when it looked more unkempt than usually, to me at least.

"I was putting my last gift out for Rogue," I whispered to him, not wanting to wake anyone up.

"At three in the morning? You really don't have any patients, do you darlin'?" he had smirked at me, with his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorway wearing just sweatpants and an A-Shirt.

"I was already awake, so I decided to go ahead and get it over with, actually,"

"What's wrong with your hair?" he asked.

"I straightened it; I thought it would look good for the party tonight. I feel a little left out sometimes, I'm the only one without straight hair,"

"I like it better the other way,"

"Really?"

"Yeah,"

"No other guy that I've known has actually _liked_ my hair curly; I think you're the first,"

"I always liked it curly,"

I looked away, blushing. "It used to be more frizzy than curly, but I appreciate it all the same," I said, looking back up at him with a smile. He just nodded his head at me. "Well, we've got a big day tomorrow so I guess I'll go to bed and let you go back to sleep,"

"Yeah,"

"Goodnight Logan," I said, turning to go to my room.

"You got a date to this little party tonight?" he asked and I turned back around to face him.

"Uh, well…no, I'm just going to go stag, I guess. What about you, I bet you've got a hot date all lined up, right?"

"I'm workin' on it,"

"Working on it? The party's tonight, you had better get on it. What's wrong with this chick that it's taking her so long?"

He smiled at me and then let out a little gruff laugh. "Why don't you go with me?"

I hoped that I looked good in pink, because my face sure seemed to stay that color around him. "Won't that other girl get upset?"

He kept smiling at me and ran his hand through the back of his hair. "No, I don't think she would mind if you went with me,"

"Alright then, yeah, we can go together," I grinned, mindlessly giddy.

"Alright, goodnight darlin'," he said, watching me walked back to my room, and I smiled at him before closing my door.

I waited to hear his door close before I proceeded to jump about happily and attempted to muffle my excited cries. Then I went back to bed and fell back to sleep, looking forward to the next day even more than I already was. Therefore, even though I was a little disappointed about not having my present first thing in the morning, the thought of my date with Logan that night made me giddy all over again.

I went down for early breakfast and saw that Rogue was the only one sitting at the staff table when I got there and I felt slightly awkward to sit with her since she knew that I had been her Secret Santa.

"Good morning," I said, sitting down a little further down the table than she was.

"Good morning," she said, her thick southern accent covering the words as the formed in her mouth. "Thanks for the Christmas presents, they were really nice,"

"You're welcome," I smiled weakly, pulling two waffles onto my plate and smothering them in syrup and butter. One of the things I missed about Canada the most; we had fantastic maple syrup.

I saw Bobby walk into the dining room, come to our table and sit down. "Good morning, ladies," he said.

I smiled and gave him a small wave, as I couldn't reply because my mouth was full. He laughed and gave Rogue a quick peck on the cheek before filling up his own plate.

It wasn't much longer before Jean and Scott came in, with the Professor right behind them, and then soon Storm was following. However, by the time I was through eating, I had yet to see Logan, so I decided to go back up to my room. I needed to rewash my hair and let it be curly since he liked it better that way.

On my way upstairs, I noted how creepy the mansion felt with more than half the kids gone for the holidays, and the rest sleeping it. It was all too quiet and I had grown accustomed to hearing them all in the dining room, or rushing through the halls between classes. I had not only gotten used to, but also could barely sleep without, the sound of them talking and giggling at night.

I took my time walking to my room, pausing to look over the balcony to look down at the beautiful, and absolutely massive, Christmas tree that stood out in front of it.

"Not hungry?" I heard a deep voice ask from behind me. I turned to see Logan in jeans and flannel shirt standing just behind me.

"No, I already ate," I said. He come and propped himself up on the banister beside me. "You know, rumor has it that you've jumped from this thing before,"

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "That ain't no rumor," he said with a smirk.

"Really? So why did you throw yourself from the second floor balcony, to prove your love for Dr. Grey?" I joked.

"Not quite. When Stryker's soldiers came and invaded the school I was up here fighting. Marie, Bobby and another student, John, were down there," he said, pointing to where the large tree stood. "They broke down the door and I heard Marie scream, so I came over here and I saw them, there were four of them, they all had guns. The only way I could get down there fast enough was to jump from here,"

"What happened to the soldiers, did they run away?"

He shook his head at me with a look of 'duh' on his face, but smiled. "I killed 'em, all of 'em,"

"Oh, well…I suppose that would be the appropriate retaliation against an invasion," I said and he laughed at me. "What's so funny?"

"Have you ever talked like someone your own age?"

"I do talk like people my age," I defended.

"No you don't,"

"Well, I guess not, then," I said as we both stood there quietly for a while. There was something about his body being so close to mine that made my heart rate kick up a few beats.

"Hi Chloe," I heard a voice from behind me say. I turned and saw Sarah, the girl whom I had met on my last interview before the Professor had made me take a break, standing at the edge of the stairs.

"Hey Sarah, good morning," I smiled.

"Are you okay, your face is all red?" she asked, pointing to me. I reached up and felt my hot cheeks, trying to cover them from Logan.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied.

"Okay, see you later," she said as she went down the stairs.

"You better go get breakfast before Scott eats it all," I joked.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head and standing up straight. I watched him walk to the top of the stairs and then turn back to me. "You do look a little red, darlin'," he said with a wink, and then laughing at himself he went down the stairs, leaving me blushing even brighter.

As I was going to my room, I saw Ororo and Bobby speaking to each other. They must have gone up in the elevator. I smiled at both as I walked past, but I couldn't help myself from stopping for a second or two when I heard Storm thank Bobby for her Secret Santa gifts. Logan had told me that he had drawn Storm's name. He lied to me just because he didn't want to switch names; what a jerk.

I went on in to my room, fuming a little bit. I was so busy looking through my wardrobe that I nearly missed the small box on my bed. I went over to it, picked it up and opened it. Inside there were two tickets to the New Year's Eve production of the Broadway musical 'Wicked', and I flipped out; I had wanted to see that show since it had opened. My excitement was only a little damped when I saw that my Secret Santa had not left a note to reveal them to me. At that point, I was wondering if it were Jean or Professor Xavier, he would know my taste and someone like him would have been more likely to understand and appreciate my love of musicals. So, although I didn't know who bought them, I was extremely happy with my presents, but wondered whom I would take to the show with me. No one but the Professor would want to go with me, I assumed, so I thought that I would take him. It would be a nice little date for the two of us.

I went to work, doing my hair, my make up, getting all dressed up. I hardly ever dressed up, the most I did was when I was wearing a skirt, but that night I wanted to look nice. For Logan.

I heard a knock on my door at a quarter to five, and then heard it open slightly.

"You decent in here?" I heard Logan call to me.

"Yeah, come on in." I called back from my bathroom. "I'll be out in just a second,"

I had been trying to find the right shade of red lipstick. I hated woman who could wear it so effortlessly. I thought it was beautiful and I had tried on around fifteen different shades before finding one that didn't make me look funny. So, I slicked on a little bit of lip-gloss over it, because if I wasn't wearing chapstick I needed gloss, and then I walked out from my bathroom and saw Logan looking through my movies.

"I'm ready," I said and he turned around.

I had thought of Logan as a friend, my family, someone for me to play with, and I had just assumed that he thought the same of me. However, that first look, his instant gaze proved to show another emotion from him than I had never seen aimed towards me. There was attraction in his eyes, and though he had _told_ me that he thought I was attractive, to see that he actually believed it gave me all the confidence I needed to feel good in the red dress I was wearing. Of course, I was feeling _too_ confident when I took another step, walking towards Logan, and tripped in my shoes. I grabbed the bedpost before I fell and straightened myself out.

"I hope you don't mind having a short date, but it's better than a dead date and I'm going to kill myself if I wear these shoes," I told him, pulling off my high-heels that I had foolishly thought I could wear because he was taller than me and I thought I could get away with it.

I went to my closet and pull out a pair of nice black flats, slid them on and when I looked back at Logan, I was no longer the sexy woman he was ready to go eat with, no, I had gone back to just being Chloe.

"Are you ready now?" he asked.

I reached up and checked my hair, checked my earrings and looked over my dress, making sure that I had everything.

"Yeah, does my hair look okay?" I asked.

He gave me a smile that was borderline smirking and ran one hand through the back of his own hair. "Yeah, it looks fine,"

"Okay then, let me grab a sweater and my purse then we can go," I said as I pulled a sweater from my closet and slipped it on over my dress. It was red, strapless and had a fuax-corset lace up in the front and back (It really zipped up on the side, but we won't tell anyone that!). It came just below my knees and had a small, matching red tulle trim at the bottom. I had bought it around a year and a half before because I had seen it and fell in love with it, and _had_ to have it, even though I didn't have anywhere to wear it to at the time. After seeing the look on Logan's face, I was glad that I had bought it when I did.

I had pulled my hair into a lose bun, letting a couple of curls fall in front of my face. I was wearing a pair of pearl drop earrings, which had belonged to my mother and had been one of the only things that I had gotten of hers before I had been shipped off to live in Canada. I had kept them hidden, tucked away so that no one else could see them, and that night was the first time that I had ever worn them.

I walked past my mirror to get my purse and stopped as I saw my reflection.

"Are you alright?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, I thought I was going crazy for a second there,"

"Why?"

"I thought I saw my mother…then I realized it was just me," I said, trying to play it off with a laugh.

"Did she look like you?" he asked softly, surprising me with the tone of his voice.

"Yeah, sort of, but I always thought she was so pretty, she looked like an angel. Even if I look a little bit like her, she had these amazingly beautiful blue eyes that I always wanted mine to be the same color as, instead of just…boring brown,"

"Your eyes aren't boring,"

"Thanks, but I think they are, no one likes brown,"

"I like them, I think they're pretty," he said and I, of course, blushed.

"Well, why am I wasting my time dating other guys for? You like my hair, my eyes, watch 'The Three Stooges' with me, I think you're my soul mate," I joked.

"Maybe one day, kid," he said with a wink.

I paused for a moment, looking him over. He was wearing the same outfit that he had worn to Jean and Scott's anniversary party: blue jeans and a black dress shirt. His hair and sideburns looked a little neater than usual.

"We better go or we'll be late," I said, grabbing my purse and heading for the door, but he wasn't following me and so I turned around to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"If your mother was beautiful than you must look more like her than you think,"

"You know, you are the only person I've ever met who knows how to compliment me without ever actually saying it," I smiled. "And thank you,"

"No problem, let's get out of this place, I'm starvin',"

"Now _that's_ something I can agree with you on," I smiled.

* * *

The ride to the restaurant was nice; Logan and I rode together in his car after he finally convinced me that there would be no point in me driving my truck.

"So, does anyone get drunk and embarrass themselves during these little shindigs?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, Chuck gets smashed every year and sings karaoke," he said sarcastically, glancing over and smiling at me. I smiled back at him and gave a smile laugh. We didn't say anything for a few minutes. "What are you thinkin' about?" he finally asked.

"I was just wondering…" I said, slightly trailing off and biting the edge of my lip.

"Wonderin' what?"

"How do you do the name 'Chuck' with the Name Game song?"

He thought for a second and then a grin spread across his face. Personally, I was impressed by the fact that Logan actually knew the Name Game.

"I guess that's when he would prefer to be called Charles," he smiled.

"So, did you find out who your Secret Santa was today?"

"Yeah, Jean. You?"

"No, but I think it was the Professor,"

"Why?"

"My last present was two tickets to a Broadway show; I'm just not sure why he didn't tell me it was him,"

"Did you get what you wanted?"

"Yeah, they were all great, how about you?"

"Yeah," he said and then there was another pause in our conversation. "The Professor didn't get you that stuff,"

"Really, then who did?"

He didn't say anything for a second, but instead seemed oddly focused on the snow-dusted road. "Me," he muttered, barely audible.

A grin spiked my lips. "_You_ bought me perfume and tickets to a musical?"

"And the Three Stooges," he added.

"Oh, that is too brilliant. That's why you wouldn't switch names with me?"

"Yeah,"

"So you know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"You have to go to the show with me!" I exclaimed.

"Oh no…no, no, no, you can take Chuck or 'Ro, or someone who actually cares about that musical crap,"

"No, you bought them for me, I get to pick who I want to go with me and I pick you,"

"No,"

"Yes, those are the rules,"

"They're bad rules,"

"I don't care, that's what they are and you have to follow them,"

He looked over at me, the look on his face just short of a scowl. "You're serious about this?"

"Dead serious, you _have_ to follow the rules,"

"Where are these rules written at, I wanna' see 'em?"

"That's not how it works,"

He let out a long breath that sounded as if it wanted to come out as a growl. "Fine, I'll go,"

I smiled triumphantly. "Good, you'll have fun, I promise,"

"I doubt it,"

"Why didn't you tell me that it was you when you gave me my gift today?"

He gave me a wicked grin. "Keepin' you on your toes, darlin',"

"Like I really need the practice," I said. "I'm not exactly the brightest bulb, Logan, need you keep reminding me?"

"As long as I have to go to that stupid show,"

"Oh shut up, I bet you're really a closet musical fan. You probably sing and dance in the shower. Yeah, you mock me but I bet that you were the one wanting to actually see it and thought that this way it would look like I made you,"

"You got me, kid, I guess my punishment should be not goin', it wouldn't be fair,"

"Well, there _was_ this guy I met down at that used book store that's been talking to me, I guess I could take him,"

"Who is he?"

"His name is Jake,"

"Do you go out with anyone whose name doesn't start with a 'J'?"

"No, actually, but purposefully, though,"

"Look, I don't know anything about this guy, and it's not safe for you to go by yourself…so I'll go with you,"

"How very noble of you, you're my hero Logan," I said sarcastically with a small smirk. The only thing that he didn't know was that I meant it; he _was_ my hero.


	13. Wicked

Disclaimer: I own none of Marvel's characters, I wouldn't even take them if they gave them to me...well... I might, if you have an extra Wolverine hanging around somewhere, I suppose I could take him off your hands for you? Or not. This is the second to last chapter, so get to readin' ya'll! Giddyup!

* * *

The party was pretty fun, although no one did get drunk, I somehow managed to embarrass myself when I not only dropped a bit of my food on myself but also spilled some of my water on my dress. Fortunately, the food didn't stain and the water dried by the time Jean came through, taking my picture with Logan.

I danced with Scott a couple of times and contemplated asking Bobby to dance when I saw Rogue flirting with Logan, but I decided against it considering that I would be doing the same thing as her, but worse since they were married and Logan and I weren't even dating. By the time we left, I was so glad that I hadn't worn my heels because my feet were slightly hurting in my flats just from dancing.

It was almost ten o'clock when we got back to the school, but I couldn't go to bed right then.

"Where are you goin'?" Logan asked as I started towards the den.

"It's Christmas Eve; I have to watch 'A Christmas Story' before midnight,"

"You have a lot of traditions, don't you?" he asked with a condescending stare.

"Yes," I admitted, continuing my walk to the den.

"Why?" he asked, following me.

"Because no one that I ever lived with cared too much about the holidays, except for my Aunt Linda, she was weird about Saint Patrick's Day,"

"Good day," I heard him laugh from behind me.

"Yeah, she thought so, too. Anyway, I celebrated everything by myself, so I just started my own traditions. It made it seem less sad, but thanks to you now they sort of do…seem sad," I said, muttered the last bit.

I walked into the empty den, turned on the TV, flipped it over to the 'A Christmas Story' marathon on TNT, pulled of my sweater, kicked of my shoes and curled up on the couch to watch it.

"You're gonna' watch TV in that dress?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow as he sat down beside me.

"There's no time to change; the movie's about to start,"

"It's a marathon, and you've seen it before, I don't think they've changed the plot on you," he deadpanned.

"Yes, but I have to watch the full movie before Christmas day, no bathroom breaks or anything,"

"I worry about you sometimes, darlin',"

"There's probably a good reason for it, too," I said just as the movie started. "Have you ever seen this movie?"

"No,"

"Watch it with me,"

"I am,"

"Okay, I didn't know if you were going to leave me or not,"

"No, I'm not gonna' leave you," he said. It took me a moment to feel the weight of his words and realize what he meant.

I looked over at him; he was sitting at an angle, with his feet propped up on the coffee table and his left arm slung across the top of the couch, just staring at me, burning into me with his fiery gaze.

"Why are you so good to me?" I asked and he looked away doubtfully. "You really are, Logan. I'm always so…sarcastic, and rude and I yell and fight with you all the time, but you…you never seem to care. You're always nice to me…well, not _always_, but for the most part. I know that you're not always so keen to say how you feel, unless you're telling someone where they can go when they piss you off, but I want you to know that it means a lot to me when you do,"

He let out a long breath and turned his eyes downward for a minute. "Chloe, do you think…" he started very cautiously, trailing off.

"Do I think what?" I asked, cocking my head to the side in attempt to meet his eyes.

He looked back to me. "Do you think…when I saw you in the bar at Drake's bachelor party, do you think that you would have talked to me if I had come in by myself?"

I bit my lip, thinking. I knew that wasn't what he was going to ask; he had been trying to ask me something for the past few days but would always change his mind at the last minute. Nevertheless, I decided to answer him anyway. "I don't know, because I wanted you to remember me instead of having to tell you who I was,"

"I knew who you were as soon as I saw you; you wouldn't have had to tell me,"

"So why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I didn't think you would want to talk to me,"

"Why not?"

"I thought you'd still be mad at me,"

"Did you really feel _that_ guilty after six years?" I asked.

"Yeah,"

"But why?"

"I don't know,"

"Yes you do, you don't feel bad about something for that long without knowing why,"

"'Cause I wanted to take care of you, I wanted to take you away from that bar and I let my temper get in the way of doin' that,"

"You were just protecting yourself, though; it's not as if it just came from no where,"

"I had been fightin' there for three months and for over two years at other places, why did I need to use my claws?"

"Because you were being threatened, you were caught off guard and your instinct is to take care of yourself, that's what you do to survive, Logan,"

"I know but all I had was half an hour before I was leavin' to get you and I couldn't even keep myself under control for that long,"

"You _still_ feel guilty," I stated, shaking my head.

"You've been through more than you should have and I could have stopped it,"

"And it still isn't enough for me to blame you. I was upset that you left me until I found out why. Why did you feel guilty about me living at that bar if you didn't even know that I would say yes to living with you? I would have, but _I_ was going to ask _you_. The only thing that's bothered me all of these years was that I didn't get to tell you goodbye properly, that's all that bothers me now. I don't blame you for anything that's happened to me, you know that, I've told you that I don't, but what am I supposed to tell you to make you believe me?"

"I don't know,"

"You mean the world to me, Logan, and I mean it, I don't want to sit and watch you do this to yourself because it breaks my heart and makes me feel like I did something for you to feel that way,"

"You didn't,"

"But that's how it feels. I don't want you to feel guilty about anything bad that happened to me because when you were around back then, for the majority of the time, I was happy, and _that_ you can take credit for," I said and then looked away. "I don't understand how you can be so easy to love me but when it comes to you, you beat yourself up over something so stupid. Why do you do that? Why can't you see what I see when I look at you?"

"What do you see when you look at me?" he asked in a dropped voice.

"I see…" I paused.

"An animal?"

I looked up at him. "No…no, Logan, that's not what I see at all. What I see in you, what I've always seen in you, is that you're the only person who has ever taken care of me without it being your job to. You saved me life, I would have _died_ if you hadn't been there, I owe everything I have to you, and I don't understand why you can't see that?"

"Because goin' in there and gettin' you after he hit you is something most people would do if they would have heard your scream,"

"But not everyone would have followed me to make sure that I was okay and you did. You followed me, you came in and saved me and you made sure that he wouldn't come after me again. Because of you, I don't have to be scared when I walk down the street, or when I go out by myself. I don't have to worry about anyone coming after me, I don't live in fear because of you, Logan, you. Animals don't do that, they wouldn't care, but you did. You could have gone home, I could have died, and that would have been it. But for some reason you came and found me, why?"

"Because something didn't feel right when you left and I got worried about you,"

"So you came after me, you took care of me. You let your temper get the best of you once but you listened to your instincts that night and that's when it counted," I said as a tear ran down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb and cupped my face in his palm. I held it there, leaning into his touch.

"Come here," he said, pulling me to him, holding me against him with my head at his heart. I could hear its fast pace and was glad that mine wasn't the only one feeling like it was pounding out of my chest just from being close to him.

We were quiet for a while, both of us reserved to our own thoughts. I was having quite a hard time trying to concentrate on the movie with his strong arms wrapped around my bare arms and shoulders.

"Hey Logan?" I sniffled.

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about Golden Retrievers?" I asked with a laugh.

I could see his face but I could tell that he was blinking the way that he did when he was confused. "They're alright, why, do you want one?"

"I used to," He kissed the top of my head and that was the end of our serious conversation for the night.

We watched the rest of the movie together and just as it started again, I fell asleep. When I woke up next, the blue light of the early winter morning was spilling into the den through the window high on the corner wall.

I lifted my head and saw that Logan was still holding me and he was asleep as well. I decided not to wake him but to slowly get up alone, instead. I carefully moved his arm from around my shoulder, immediately missing how it felt. Before moving, I took him in, inhaling him deeply. I loved the smell of his cologne, and it was strong right on his neck, which I was slightly nuzzling with my nose.

Logan let out a small, low growl. "That tickles," he mumbled, sounding still half-asleep.

"Sorry," I smiled.

"What are you doin'?" he asked, shifting his body slightly.

"You smell good," I answered simply.

"I'm glad you think so," he laughed and I could feel it rumble through him. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, but pretty early, I think; it's starting to get light out.

He lifted his right arm and looked at his watch. "It's after five in the mornin', we better get upstairs, breakfast is gonna' start soon,"

"Okay," I said, sitting up and then standing. I grabbed my shoes and sweater from the floor. Logan looked at me, scratching the back of his head and smirked. "What?"

"You sleep like a rock, kid,"

I laughed. "I'm not the only one; you didn't wake a bit when I moved your arm,"

"Are you sure about that?"

"You were awake that whole time and let me sit there and make a _fool_ of myself by sniffing you?"

"It doesn't take long," he said, his smirk still plastered across his face.

"Well, that answers my question as to whether you wake up sarcastic or if it takes a little while for you to get that way," I said. "Oh, and by the way; you have lipstick on your shirt,"

He looked down at his shirt and saw the red lipstick that I had smeared on it while I was sleeping. "I didn't like it anyways," he said.

"I can get it out for you,"

"Don't worry about it,"

"I like it on you, it looks nice,"

He nodded his head. "Thanks," he said standing up beside me. "Let's go get some food,"

"I've got to change first; I don't think this is appropriate attire for Christmas breakfast,"

"Me too, now that you've messed up my shirt,"

"I thought you didn't like it?"

"Well, since you like it I thought I might oughta' keep it,"

"You're as sick as you are lovely,"

"Excuse me?"

I laughed, a smile springing to my lips. "It's a song; 'you're as sick as you are lovely and I wanna' help you,' or something like that,"

He quirked an eyebrow, scratching his forehead. "I can see why guy proposed to you, you're awfully charmin' kid," he said to me sarcastically.

"He only proposed to my because he was thirty years old, working in a book store, trying to get into movies and his mother threatened to cut off his 'allowance' if he didn't get married and settle down. I don't have a family, I have a good job and you were right; he just wanted to merry me and move out to L.A. so that he would still be able to get money from his parents and act at the same time." I said.

"I'm sorry,"

"Well, I think you told me that I could do better, so don't worry about it. I think I can survive, I've been through worse," I said with a smile.

Have you ever had one of those moments where something just clicks and you finally realize that what you've been trying to figure out is so obvious and right in front of you? That's what was happening to me right then, but instead of having what I wanted in front of me figuratively, it was there physically. In that moment, I couldn't deny or fight all of the thoughts that were surging through my mind. I had been trying to tell myself that Logan was off limits, he was just my friend and that I _couldn't_ have a crush on him. Sure, I found him attractive, most women did, but to make a conscious decision to act on my feelings, I had banned myself from allowing my mind to even play with the idea. Until then. Something inside of my insisted that I needed him and I could no longer keep myself believing that I just saw him as my someone to play with. I loved him and I knew that I had to do something about it.

* * *

"I can't believe you cried," Logan said to me.

"It was sad!" I defended.

"It was a musical!" he said back.

It was New Years Eve and we were driving back to the mansion after seeing the show. Logan was making fun of me because I had cried while the character Elphaba sang 'I'm Not That Girl', 'As Long As Your Mine', 'No Good Deed' and was bawling my the finale. It was the best musical I had ever seen, obviously, as it had reduced me to tears. It had also been the best present I had ever received and was willing to tell Logan as soon as I found a spot open in his mocking to interject it.

"But it was _still_ sad, did you not feel the least bit of emotion the entire show?"

"Aside from being annoyed at the whole thing, no,"

"Well, I'm sorry that you're such a heartless man, but don't make fun of me because I'm capable of feeling more than anger and annoyance,"

"It wasn't real,"

"So?"

"Why are you crying over things that aren't even real?"

"Because it's natural for normal people to react to the things that are happening in front of them; my body doesn't know that they're acting, and so when I feel sad it lets me cry,"

"Well the next time we go out I get to pick where we go, alright?"

"Alright, deal," I said with a smile. He said that we would go out again and my heart melted.

The majority of the ride was spent with him making fun of me and me defending myself, until I turned on the radio to an oldies station that was playing Elvis' 'Hound Dog'.

"Is he talking about a real dog or is it a metaphor for a woman?" I asked.

"Well, since he's talking about them never catching a rabbit, I would think it's a real dog,"

"_Or_ a very odd woman," I added.

"I doubt it,"

I changed the station and put it onto another one that was playing Joan Jett and The Blackhearts' 'I Love Rock And Roll' to which I began to sing along to the music. He looked over and shook his head, smiling at me. If my heart hadn't been in a puddle from melting earlier, it would have melted right then.

It didn't take too much longer for us to get back home, and when we did, it was nearly midnight. Logan went to the kitchen to get a drink, but said that he would be right back. As the clock got closer to the hour, I became slightly more anxious. My plan was to bring in the New Year by kissing Logan and to tell him how I felt about him. That was the plan, at least, which completely relied on my not losing my calm and involuntarily throwing up on him. However, I was sure that wouldn't happen…fairly sure…okay, I was _hopeful_.

"Hey, have you seen Marie, we've got like a minute left," Bobby asked, come up to me.

"I think I saw her go to the kitchen," I said.

We both walked down the hall.

"Thirty seconds," someone called out.

We rounded the corner and were only a few feet away from the kitchen door when the count down started.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six,"

We walked up to the door and he pushed it open. Logan and Rogue were both standing there talking. There was no way that I could get to him without looking conspicuous.

"Five, four, three,"

Rogue pulled the scarf she was wearing up to her mouth.

"Two, one,"

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. She kissed him, and she continued to kiss him for what was, in actuality, probably only three to five seconds after the counting had stopped, but to me it seemed far much longer. As I was watching it happen, it felt like it was going on forever and the only thought running through my mind at that moment was, "_That is_ not_ why I bought her that scarf!_"

You know in movies when something tragic happens to one of the characters, then everyone starts moving in slow motion and the sound in the background is almost muted because all they can see is that horrid event taking place in front of them? This was far, far worse than that.

"Marie!" I heard Bobby yell from beside me, but the sound still wasn't coming in clear.

The yell jerked them apart and I'm not sure what happened between Bobby and Rogue right then because Logan saw me for just a moment before I took off for my room. I don't know if you can look heartbroken, but if you can, I did. I was heartbroken, devastated, livid, jealous, angry; angry with whom, Rogue, Logan, myself? I didn't know, but I fled the room and headed for the stairs.

"Chloe, wait, Chloe," I heard Logan calling after me, but I didn't stop, I didn't want him to see me crying.

He followed me as I went to my bedroom. "Goodnight, Logan," I said in a shaking voice, closing my door.

"Chloe, why are you mad at me?" he asked, opening my door and following right behind me as I pulled off my shoes, putting them into my closet and then hanging up my sweater.

"I'm not mad," I lied, sniffling back tears. "I just wanted to go to bed, I had a long night. Thank you for taking me out, I had a very nice time,"

I heard him close my door and walk over behind where I was standing. He gently turned me around to see him, tilting my face up with his hand to meet his eyes. "Why are you jealous of her?"

"Of who?" I asked, trying to hold back my tears.

"Marie,"

"I'm not," I lied again.

"Then what was that about just now?"

"I told you; I'm tired and decided to go to bed,"

"So you ran up here?"

"I figured Bobby and Rogue needed to talk, so yeah, I left pretty fast, I wouldn't say I ran, though,"

"Why are you crying?"

I wiped away the tears that were still left on my face. "I was thinking about that show and getting all emotional again," I said with a forced smile.

He pulled me to him lightly; I could feel his beard against my face through the curtain of my hair that separated us. One of his hands was softly placed on my right shoulder and the other one on the small of my back, holding me to him.

I'm not sure how it happened, but I soon found myself kissing Logan, one hand at his shoulder and the other holding his face. He was kissing me too, but then he pulled away abruptly, swearing.

"Kid, what are you doin'?" he asked.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," I apologized. Why was I apologizing? It was what I had been wanting to do since I had seen him my last night at Taryn's bar. "No,"

"No what?"

"No, I'm not sorry, I meant to do that," I said. "Logan, the reason why I got mad down there was because I wanted to be the one to kiss you at midnight,"

"Why?"

I paused for a moment, trying to keep my nerve going as I breathed slowly. "I like you, and…I thought maybe that you might like me, too?"

"Chloe," he started and I knew it was going somewhere that I did not want to go. "I can't do that,"

"Why not?"

"Because you're just a kid,"

"I'm twenty-two; I've grown up since you last saw me as a kid,"

"That's the problem; you have grown up. I need you to still be that sixteen year old little girl because I can't think of you like this,"

"Why?"

"Because you're off limits,"

"What if I don't _want _to be off limits, what if I give you permission right now to see me as an adult?"

He swore again. "Chloe, I think you're beautiful, you know that darlin', but I can't let myself do this. I've worked too hard trying to keep myself from doing anything about how I feel or what I think to start right now. I don't want permission to see you as an adult because I can't look at you like that and not do something about it,"

"Then do," I all but pleaded.

He looked at me and shook his head. "No,"

"Please,"

"I don't do well with woman and I can't stand to see you hurt so I'm not going to do this because I can't hurt you Chloe, I can't do that to you,"

"You won't,"

"Yes I will, just ask 'Ro,"

"I'm not Ororo, Logan,"

"I know that," he said, letting out a deep breath. "Look, one of these days you're gonna' find someone who deserves you a lot more than I do, alright?"

"Wow, I feel like an idiot right now," I said with a bit of a forced laugh and wiping the tears from my face. "I just thought that you…I don't know, I guess I was wrong,"

"Chloe," he started.

"No, don't," I said, stopping him. I knew he was going to say that he was sorry, but I didn't want to hear it. "Uh, I had a good night, so that you, but I'm tired so I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight,"

He looked at me and I knew he felt bad, but not as bad as I did. "Goodnight," he said and then walked to my door and left my room. He left me all alone.

I changed from my dress into my pajamas, washed off my makeup, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair up and away from my face and then crawled into bed. It was only then, when I was lying still and trying to go to sleep, did I realize what I had done. I had single handedly, within five minutes, managed to damage my relationship with Logan. We were a team, we did everything together and somehow I had screwed that all up. I suddenly understood why he had felt so guilty about losing his temped that night in Tom and Viv's bar; I had had a crush on Logan but I had kept myself from doing anything about it and that night all I had to do was fight my urges for just a few minutes longer. Because after New Year's I would have had to have thought of another plan and would have either come to my senses about the whole thing or lost my nerve to do it, but I didn't control myself.

I cried and cried and cried until I felt sick. I heard a few people pausing outside of my door as the part downstairs slowly wound down and they were going to bed, but no one came in to check on my, I didn't want them to. I was inconsolable at that moment. What got me wasn't that Logan _didn't_ like me; it was that he _did_, but he refused to do anything about it. Looking back now I realize that not only was that hard for him to do, but it was also the most respectable thing that any man had ever done for me, but hindsight it twenty-twenty and right then I was completely devastated.


	14. Defining Moment

Disclaimer: For the last time, I don't own anything...at all. Here's the last chapter and I hope you like it. It was emotionally taxing for me to write and worse for me when I typed it up, I hope it's worth it and that ya'll have liked the story. I enjoyed it and I hope that ya'll did too. Here's the last chapter!

* * *

Nearly a month had passed when I was sitting in the library studying. The Professor had let me take my job back, but ever since my little kissing catastrophe, I had been throwing myself into my work more than ever. I'm sure that Xavier was worried about it, but he didn't saying anything, no one did. That was the eerie thing about it. I knew that most of the staff knew what had happened; whether they knew about the kissing incident, or if they had just heard about me running from the kitchen as I had, I wasn't sure, but they were all too overly nice to me. Have you ever known a secret about someone that you weren't supposed to know and when you see them, you're afraid that they'll be able to just look at you and know that you know it? That's how the staff was acting with me, making sure that they picked their words very carefully. They would get all nervous if someone mentioned Logan, me or kissing all within a five-minute time span. Therefore, if I wasn't eating, on interviews or sleeping, I was in the library going through student files for _future_ interviews.

"Are you ever gonna' come out of this room?" I heard from behind me. I craned my neck over my shoulder to see Logan standing a few feet away from me.

"Well, it seems to be the only place I can go and concentrate without all of the noise,"

"Do you mind if I sit down?" he asked, pointing to the chair beside me.

"No," I lied, trying to be polite.

He pulled out the chair and sat beside me quietly for a moment. "I'm goin' to Canada as soon as school lets out for the summer,"

"Well…I hope that you find what you're looking for, then,"

"I wanted you to go with me,"

I looked away from my books that I was staring at, trying to stay calm, to him, sitting in the chair next to me. "Why?"

He looked me right in the eyes, something he hadn't done in weeks. "You said that you had fun when we drove to Seattle, I thought you might like it a bit better if we were gone for a few weeks instead of a day,"

"Logan," I started.

"Listen kid; I'm sorry about that, but that's just what I had to do. You don't have to go with me if you don't want to, but _that_ won't be a problem, we don't have to talk about it. It'll just be you and me for about four weeks, you can think about it," he said and then stood to leave. "Oh, Chuck wants to see you in his office,"

"Alright, thank you," I said as I started gathering and placing all of the files into my bag, taking my time so that I wouldn't have to follow right behind him.

He wanted me to go to Canada with him. _Me_. We had barely spoken to each other in those three or so weeks and all of a sudden, he wanted to go off, just the two of us, for about a month. Why?

I knocked on the door to the Professor's office after I got all of my stuff together and left the library.

"Come in," I heard him call from inside.

I opened the door, walked into his office and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "Logan said that you wanted to see me,"

"Yes, I wanted to speak to you about something,"

"Alright," I said, feeling slightly nervous.

"Logan has asked me about going up north this summer and the possibility of you going with him, I think that it would be to your best interest to do so,"

"Why do you think that?"

"I'm afraid to say that I feel as though you are in a bit of danger here, and I think that you would be much safe if you left for a few weeks. I have all faith in Logan that you will be perfectly safe with him,"

"What do you mean danger; can you be a little more specific?" I asked, definitely more than just slightly nervous.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure,"

"How can you not be sure? You're _psychic_!"

"Chloe, I do not think it's anything to be too worried about right now, I feel that you'll be safe until the summer,"

"You don't think?" I asked in a shrill voice.

"Miss Rynolds, you only have to leave the house for interviews, unless you would rather Bobby or Rogue take them over for you. I have talked to Logan and he will be going with you whenever you go out,"

"I have an interview tomorrow that I want to do but then I don't want to do anymore. But, it's during school hours, how is that supposed to work out?" I said, my voice much calmer.

"Logan will be excused from all teaching duties tomorrow,"

I took in a shaking breath. "Okay," I said, nodding my head.

"I have complete faith in Logan to protect you,"

"Yeah…I have faith in him, too,"

* * *

"So, did you talk to the Professor?" Logan as me that night after dinner as I was walking to the gym. I needed to work out my nerves.

"Yeah,"

"What did he say?"

"Well you talked to him, don't you know?"

"He only asked me to watch out for you when you went out,"

"And that's all he said to me," I said curtly.

"Why are you mad?"

I turned around and looked at him. We were right in front of the gym doors.

"Did you only ask me to go to Canada because the Professor asked you to take me with you?"

He looked slightly offended at me. "No, I respect him but I'm not Summers; I don't run and do everything he tells me to do,"

"So asked me because you honestly wanted to take me?"

"Yeah, I went to ask him if I could take the summer off and he knew that I was going to ask you and he told me that he thought it would be a good idea if you left for a few weeks, but _I _wanted you to go with me,"

"But why, we've barely spoken since New Year's Eve, what made you want to suddenly take me on a road trip with you?"

"I told you; since you had fun the last time we went somewhere, I thought you might wanna' go somewhere else," he said. "You don't have to go,"

"That's not the problem, I miss you Logan, I feel like I lost a part of myself when I…acted stupid and screwed up,"

"You weren't acting stupid, and you didn't screw up,"

"You weren't the one who went all emotional and made a fool of yourself in my bedroom, that was me,"

"You didn't make a fool of yourself and I'm sorry if I made you feel like that. If you had been any other woman-"

"If I had been _Marie_, you mean," I spat, cutting him off.

"No,"

"Why don't you just admit it Logan? You have a _crush_ on her,"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not stupid, I see how you talk and flirt with her. I know that I'm not as pretty as she is, but do me a favor and don't treat me like a complete idiot, at least,"

"I want you to listen to me Chloe, because I'm not gonna' say this again," he said to me, trapping me between him and the wall, moving his face within two inches of mine. "I've seen Marie grow up and I told you that she reminded me of you everyday. Am I attracted to her? Yes. Am I gonna' do anything about it? No. Why? Because she's married now. Before then I didn't do anything about it because Marie is just a friend to me. I want nothing more than to kiss you right now but I've seen what that did with me and Jean and me and 'Ro. We're fine now but it took too long for us to get like that again for me to screw this up with you. I don't think you're stupid and you know that I think you're beautiful and that's why I don't want to do this to you. You were the only thing that kept me goin' back then, kid, you were the first person that I cared about and you were the only person who cared about me. Don't you ever think the reason why I'm doin' this is because I don't like you, darlin', because that's why I'm not,"

"Alright, I get that, but you have to understand that it's hard for me to listen to you say that you want the same thing as me but I can't have it. I…I tried so hard not to fall for you Logan, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to, but it happened. I just want for us to go back to before I kissed you, because now that's all I can think about. I do miss you, I miss being around you. You don't want to screw this up, but I already have. I'm so sorry, can you please forgive me?" I asked, tears escaping my eyes.

He put his hand up to my cheek and nuzzled his nose against mine. "No, there's nothin' for you to be sorry about,"

"But I messed this up,"

"You did what we both wanted to do, what I couldn't do,"

"You can, though," I said, closing my eyes to keep the tears from flowing.

"But I'm not going to,"

"I know,"

I felt his lips lightly press against mine, kissing me softly. I longed to kiss him back, but I knew that I couldn't or I would regret it. He slowly pulled away and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him to me and hugged him.

"I love you, Logan," said through tears, where my face was burred into his shoulder.

He wrapped one of his arms around my waist and stroked my hair with his free hand. "I love you too, Chloe," he said to me, continuing to hold me to him.

Maybe it sounds absurd, but I believe that the reason why Logan didn't want to have a real relationship with me was because he _did_ love me, perhaps he was even _in_ love with me, and he really didn't want to hurt me. However, whatever the reason was it didn't matter; it was the final decision. We weren't going to get involved with each other. Although it hurt, I was okay with it because I was going to get my Wolverine back. He was mine and I was never going to let him go.

* * *

"You ready in here?" I heard Logan ask from my open door.

"Yeah, I'm just putting my boots on," I called to him from my closet.

"Cowboy boots?" he asked, walking up to where I was standing.

I shrugged, pulling on my second boot. "So you rubbed off on me a little bit,"

It was the next day, Monday, and I was getting ready for my meeting that morning. I had decided to wear the outfit that I had worn when I dreamt that Logan and I were getting married, in hopes to make myself feel a little bit better. However, what would the odds be of him wearing the same thing that I had seen him wearing in my dream as well? Well, perhaps the odds wouldn't be so high, considering that he usually wore jeans with a white T-shirt.

"I think it's more than a little bit," he said with a smirk as he watched me pull on a sweater over my dress. He was finally back to being old Logan again and I realized then just how much I had missed him.

"Stop gawking at me Logan, you're going to make me late," I joked.

He let out a small chuckle. "Alright, come on, let's get this interview over with, I'll buy you lunch,"

"Oh, can we go to Tubbies?"

"I'll think about it," he winked.

* * *

"What do you think about me dying my hair?" I asked on the car ride downtown.

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't know, for a bit of change. I think I might look good as a redhead with my skin color and everything,"

"I think you don't need to touch it, it's fine the way it is,"

"You know, it's funny, back when you used to come into the bar you would take the bleach blonde, heavily made up woman out with you. However, now that I know you, I realize that you don't like all that. You like woman to be very natural and stuff,"

"I just think that woman don't realize that being a woman is enough to get a man to notice you. All the makeup and perfume is wasted on us,"

"Okay, first of all, _you _bought me perfume for Christmas this past year, and second of all, I don't wear makeup to impress men, when I wear it, I wear it because_ I_ want to,"

"I only bought you that because it didn't smell like all of that flowery crap,"

"Flowery crap," I laughed. "You are such a man,"

We argued over my hair and other woman things that irritated him until we arrived at the foster home.

"So, how long is this going to take?" he asked as we walked to the entrance together.

"I don't know, it depends,"

"On what?"

"How willing he is to talk to me," He let out a small, displeased growl. "Settle down boy, we'll get something to eat soon," I smiled at him.

"How may I help you?" the woman behind the front desk asked as I walked up to her.

"I'm Chloe Rynolds, I'm from Professor Xavier's school for the gifted and I'm here to see Lukas Sutton,"

"He's in the cafeteria, just go through that door on your right, go down the hall and it's the second door on the left,"

"Alright, thank you," I said, giving a small smile to Logan, who had plopped down in one of the seats in the waiting room and was flipping through a Home and Garden magazine. He cocked his eyebrow at me and then gave me a small wink.

I had never interviewed a boy before, the Professor generally liked to keep Rogue and I interviewing the girls and left Bobby to interview the boys, as the kids are more likely to respond to someone of the same gender.

I walked down the hall, passing by a few kids as I made my way to the cafeteria door. I paused briefly before going in, taking a moment to look at Lukas. He was sixteen and had been left in foster care by his two parents as they had both been incarcerated for running an escort service with a crack house underneath.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. I walked over to the table where he was seated. "Hi, I'm Chloe; do you prefer Lukas or Luke?" I asked, sitting down.

"Luke,"

"Alright Luke, do you know why I'm here?"

"You're from some kind of school," he said quietly. He looked fairly tall, around my height, had brown hair and blue eyes. He was different that the other students that I had talked to, he seemed angrier

"Yeah, I'm from a school for the gifted," I said and he let out a grunted laugh. "Look, I know that this may seem a bit awkward for you, you don't know me from Adam and I just come in here talking to you and you don't get much of a say in what goes on,"

"Are you a social worker?"

"No,"

"Are you a lawyer?"

"No,"

"Are you a psychiatrist?"

"No, I told you; I work at a school,"

"What do you teach?"

"I don't,"

"Then what do you do?"

"I do this," I said, leaning back in my chair and opening my arms.

"And what is _this_?" he asked with a condescending tone.

"I talk to kids and teenagers who my boss feels would do well at his school,"

"That's an awfully crappy job," he said.

"Only on occasion, I usually tend to like it,"

"What about right now, how much are you like it?"

"Well Mr. Sutton, as much as I'm sure you would probably like it, you're _not_ the hardest person that I've ever talked to,"

"So what are you going to try and do at this school, make me all better?"

"I wasn't aware that there was anything wrong with you,"

"Yeah, I'm sure. This little 'school for the gifted', how many students go there?"

"At the moment, just under a couple of hundred,"

"And they all come from foster care?"

"No, most of the students attend with their parents consent,"

"You mean they ship them off to the school?"

"I'm not quite sure that you understand that it's an institute for learning, not a reform school,"

"Really, it's not a reform school? Because that guy you came in with doesn't look too much like a history professor,"

"That's because he's not, he teaches self defense,"

"Why is he here, in case you need some back up?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, no, he drove me down here and after this interview we're going out to eat," I said flatly. "And just out of sheer curiosity, how do you know what the guy I came with looks like?"

He raised his hand as though he was going to smack me across my face, and as he brought it forward, I put my own hand up to stop him, but his arm went right through it. "Well, is that the kind of gift you want at your school?"

"Yeah, it is,"

"I don't want to go to some 'mutie school'," he spat.

"Well, here's a bit of a newsflash; you are one of those so called 'muties' and I'm not sure why you have a problem with other people being the same,"

"Because this little school of yours is all about mutant unity, isn't it? All that stuff that's never going to happen because they hate us,"

"But at this school no one except for the students and staff know that you're a mutant,"

"So?"

"So, you won't have to worry about being hated because no one will know about you,"

"I don't want to listen about your stupid school anymore, okay? My parents are going to be getting out of jail soon and I'm not going to be shipped off to some mutant's rights and unity prep reform school when they get out. My life has been hard enough without my parents knowing that I'm a mutant and I'm sure not going to tell them now, I still want a place to live when they get out,"

"Oh yeah, I apologize, living in a crack house and being scared of people to know who you are, that's a much better life than living at a nice school, free of charge with a guaranty of being safe,"

"Don't you dare, you have _no_ idea how my life has been, and some woman with a pretty face isn't enough to talk me into doing anything,"

"You're right, I don't have any idea how your life has been, but for all you know, I could have been through the same thing, or worse. I may have a pretty face but that doesn't mean that I don't understand some what of what your going through, so don't judge me,"

"Well, since you know so much about me, I think it's only right to tell me about you,"

"My life is none of your business,"

He smiled at me, but it wasn't a happy smile, it seemed devious. "Well, I guess this meeting is over with, then,"

"Yeah…I guess it is," I said, standing. "Thank you for your time Mr. Sutton," I pushed my chair back to the table and left the room.

I hated the smart aleck teenagers who thought that they had it all figured out. I wanted to smack them around and tell them to wake up, that they didn't know everything. Unfortunately, I would have probably been fired if I had tried that, and I liked my job far too much to lose it over some punk kid who thought the whole world was out to get them.

"Done?" Logan asked as I walked into the waiting area.

"Yeah," I said. "Let's go,"

"How'd it go in there?" he asked as we walked to the parking garage.

"Not so good, but I don't even care right now, I just want to get something to eat,"

He let out a small laugh. "Great to see you taking your job so seriously," he said sarcastically.

"I just hate talking to those brats who think we owe them an apology for having to go through the same crap as us,"

Logan slung his arm across my shoulder. "You have such a way with words, darlin'," he said with a smile that was almost a smirk.

I wrapped my arm around his back and lay my head on his shoulder. "I know, don't you ever forget it, either,"

We took the elevator inside the parking garage up to the third floor. When we got to the car, Logan's cell phone rang.

"It's Chuck," he said, answering it. "Hello…hello?"

"Go over there and see if you can't hear better," I said, pointing to a spot by the wall about forty or so yards away that he should have been able to get a better single from.

"Alright, you can go ahead and get in the car," he said, walking to where I had been pointing.

I went to the passenger's side door and pulled on the handle to find that the doors had been locked. So I went to the end of the car and lend up against the trunk, watching Logan trying to figure out his cell phone.

"Hello Chloe," I heard a voice say to me and eerie cold chills ran across my skin. I turned my head to my left to see my father standing a few feet away and walking closer to me.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" I asked in shock.

"Chuck, I can't hear what you're sayin'," I heard Logan say in frustration behind me as I moved to face my father.

"I thought it was time for a family reunion, I haven't seen you in seven years,"

"How did you know where to find me?"

I have…friends," he said, walking even closer to me. "You know, I spent thirteen years in prison for something I did to protect you and your mother, and you sit in court and call me a murderer,"

"You _killed_ a little boy,"

"He was a mutant," he spat.

"That was no reason to kill him,"

"Did you say Chloe? She just got out of her interview, we're about to get something to eat and go home…I can't hear you, Chuck, talk louder," Logan said into his phone.

"I was protecting you,"

"How?"

"He was a mutant," he repeated, rage lining his voice. "And how did you repay me for trying to take care of you? You become one of them,"

My heart froze in my chest; how did he know that I was a mutant? I opened my mouth to yell for Logan, but I couldn't.

I didn't see it happen, I didn't see him move, all I heard was the sound after he pulled the trigger. But I felt, oh did I feel it.

I don't know if it was the blast of the gun or the shock of what had happened that made me deafened to the sound around me, but everything went quiet. I grabbed my stomach and my father looked at me. I realized that the reason why he had shot me was that I was his daughter; otherwise, he would have done something much worse, what he had done to that little boy. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought that it was justified because he didn't understand us.

Everything was quiet but then, "Chloe!" I heard Logan yell distantly and then the sound came rushing back with a painful kick.

The speed picked back up as I watched my father run away and I fell back against the trunk of the car. I saw Logan running to me and I grabbed him as my knees went weak.

"I think my father shot me," I said as he lowered me to the garage floor and I saw the blood soaking my dress as it ran from the small hole in my abdomen.

"Help me, somebody help me!" Logan yelled out to the empty garage.

"Oh wow…it hurts really badly," I said through gritted teeth, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, trying to get through the pain.

"Chloe, just hang on baby, someone's gonna' be here soon," he said, stroking my hair.

"This is what the Professor was calling about, wasn't it? He knew something bad was about to happen,"

"Yeah, he called an ambulance, so don't worry about it, just stay with me,"

"Can you believe it…?" I said, trying to breathe through the pain. "After I finally find a family that loves me, my real father shoots me. How's that for ironic?" I let out a small laugh that shook my body and made the pain worse.

He ran his hand across my cheek, wiping away the tears that I couldn't fight back from all of the pain. "I'm gonna' find him and I'm gonna' take care of it for you," he said.

"No," I gasped. "I don't want you to get in trouble; I just want him to go back to jail. Promise me you won't do anything Logan,"

"Alright…I promise," he said, tears forming in his eyes.

I reached up my hand to wipe them away and saw the blood dripping from it. I tried to pull it away, but he wouldn't let me and held it to him with his own.

"I feel really cold," I said. He quickly pulled off his leather jacket and wrapped it around me. I could feel that my clothes were wet and sticking to my body. "I don't want to ruin your jacket," I said through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry about it darlin'," he said, pulling me up and kissing my forehead. "Just stay with me, I need you to stay right here with me,"

"I'm tired,"

"I know, but they're gonna' be here so, so just hang on until they get here and they'll take care of you,"

"Can I just take a nap until they get here?"

"No, I need you to stay away,"

"But I'm _really_ tired," I said, tears running down my face.

"Come on baby, just keep your eyes on my, alright?" he said, staring right at me and looking absolutely terrified.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"You're gonna' be alright, just keep looking at me,"

"Am I still going to be able to go to Canada with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, you're still gonna' be able to go," he said.

"Can we go to Niagara Falls?"

"If you want,"

"Have you ever been?"

"No,"

"Me either. My mother went and she said that it was beautiful. She told me that she was going to take me when I got a little older, even though I knew we probably never would. We always made vacation plans without my stepfather, but we never actually went anywhere, we would just talk about what we would do it we _did_ go,"

"Well we're gonna' go, me and you kid,"

Another swell of pain passed through me. "I don't think that I can wait until the get her Logan," I cried, the sobs causing my body to hurt even worse, which made me cry harder.

"No, people like you don't like this darlin', you're gonna be alright,"

"It hurts so badly and I'm freezing and I'm _so_ tired,"

"I know, what do you want me to do?"

"I just want you to hold me," I said. "I'm scared Logan, I'm _so_ scared,"

"They're comin', I can hear the sirens," he said, pulling me to him and holding me. I squeezed his hand tight, but when I let go and stared off into the garage he followed my gaze, the look of rage suddenly filling his eyes, but then he looked back at me, looking scared once more. "What are you lookin' at?"

"My momma," I said weakly.

"What does she want?"

"She wants me to go home with her,"

"Tell her not yet, I still need you here with me, I'm not done with you yet, kid. You're gonna' go home with me, tell her that," he said, angry tears catching in his eyes.

"But I miss her; can't I just go with her for a little while?" I asked, gasping through the pain and tears.

"No…no, you're stayin' right here,"

"She misses me, she says she needs me, Logan, please"

"No, you tell her that I need you more, it's my turn right now," he growled.

"I'm tired," I said again.

"You're gonna' be okay, they're gettin' closer, they're gonna' be here soon," he said, holding me to him and kissing my forehead once more, as he unknowingly rocked back and forth. "I promised I wasn't gonna' let anything happen to you, so when you get better I'm gonna' take care of you, kid, I won't let anything else happen to you,"

He tried to comfort me and I was glad. I was scared, absolutely terrified and I wanted him, needed him, to hold me as close to him as he could. I need the feeling of his hand against my cold cheek, I needed to hear him telling me that I was going to be okay, I needed _him_, I always had. There were times when I thought I hated him, when I genuinely couldn't stand him, but he had been the first person who had taken interest in me for me, not what I could do for them. He had cared about and for me. Even when we both wanted the same thing he said no because he didn't want to hurt me. My Wolverine, the strongest person I had ever met in my life, was cradling me in his arms and crying, because even though he was telling me to hold on, he knew that I was as strong as he was and I couldn't do it. I had lost too much blood, I was far too weak and I kept hearing my mother's voice to come home.

I wondered how hard it must be for Logan, to watch people that he loved to die, when he himself could not even died. I wondered how many people he had loved that had died while he held them. As odd as it may seem, I found something morbidly romantic about dying in the arms of the only man I ever truly loved. Whether it had been as my friend and playmate or with a love much deeper than that, but I did love him, more than anyone else in my life.

I felt his entire body shaking. "Please don't do this to me, I was wrong, I love you Chloe, nothing can screw that up,"

"I love you too, Logan," I said quietly and then…it stopped, there was no more pain. "I'm just going to close my eyes until they get here,"

"No, don't close your eyes, look at me kid!" he demanded.

"It's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore," I said as a hot, salty liquid fought its way up my throat.

I've heard people say 'Life sucks and then you die', which would have been my case, had I not met Logan. Life sucked, then I met him and it was okay. I was happy, _me_, that poor little orphan girl who knows how to fix trucks, play pool and make a mean cup of hot chocolate.

As I lay there I wondered if he would ever call another girl darlin', or if it was my name to keep, to take with me. I belonged to him, with all of my heart.

Easy is not the word in my vocabulary to which I would use to describe my life. However, I don't prefer 'pitiful', 'sad' or 'unfair' either. Perhaps the word best suited to describe my life would be…finished.

The End


End file.
